


Broken Chains

by Black_Lotus



Series: Never Stop Choosing Me [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ...A Lot Of Them, A Little OOC For Petyr, Adoption, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baelish's Prostitutes, Blood and Gore, Brave Sansa, Brothels, Burlesque, Cooking, Cover Art, Crime Scene Clean Up, Cute Petyr, Dark Sansa, Domestic Fluff, Evil Corporations, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Iliteracy, James Bond References, Kidnapping, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Torture, Murder, Nightclub, Not Tagging Some Things So The Ending Is A Secret, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Petyr Is Taking In Strays, Petyr's Smirk, Physical Abuse, Poison, Prostitution, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sarcasm, Sex, Sexual Content, Song Lyrics, Sorry Not Sorry, Stockholm Syndrome, Water Torture, Weapon Training, cuddly toys, yeah that's a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:46:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 40
Words: 124,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Lotus/pseuds/Black_Lotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Petyr pulled her closer into the moonlight to gain a better look at the nude and petrified form before him, but found something fighting him, something stronger than her desperate struggles. Petyr's mouth fell open, his green-grey eyes widened to the horror of what fought him. She was chained. </p><p>Updated Weekly!</p><p>WARNING for Rape and Torture (The rape is all pre-fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Wishes Should Cry

**Author's Note:**

> I'm putting the first chapter of this up to see how people will react to it. Please comment because I really want to know what you guys think. 
> 
> English is not my first language so please excuse any odd or silly errors.

                                                                                                      

The night was cold and rain had set in hours ago, dark and heavy drops that crashed against the floor to ceiling windows leaving a deep pounding noise to echo around the large office of Petyr Baelish, turning it into a bottomless dank cavern. He was high up on the top floor of Lion and Stag Enterprises just like all the other business executives, to be on the fifty-first floor was a sign of power; power that so few at Lion and Stag Enterprises ever got to see. When the lions and stags had merged, so long ago now, Petyr knew he'd be able to control not only the Lannisters but the Baratheons too; he had a talent for subtle manipulation. 

Petyr stared out at the rain, for some reason he found the noise comforting, almost like a child found covering its self with blanket comforting. Heavy rain fell from the heavens sending everything dark but he could still see the harbour in the far off distance as waves crashed against the shore. His desk was in perfect order, papers stacked in an orderly pile, pens sat in their gold lined black pot; he'd always been neat. Orderliness was one of his virtues, possibly to a fault. To just about anyone it would look like any normal office of a CFO but Petyr knew the truth, it wasn't like just  _any_ Chief Financial Officer's desk, he knew about the Ruger in his third draw down and the blade beside it. Behind him the television played the days news and Petyr listened absent-mindedly  while sipping his whiskey from a cut crystal tumbler, that was, of course, until the name _ Joffrey Baratheon _ was mentioned. Petyr didn't turn but his attention was captured. 

 

“ _Tonight sees twenty year old Joffrey Baratheon arrested here at The Bear, a local club run by Jorah Mormont. The young man is the Vice President of Lion and Stag Enterprises, a family corporation that is the result of the merger of Tywin Lannister's and Robert Baratheon's companies almost a decade ago. Mister Baratheon the younger was arrested tonight for drug possession and that of an unlicensed firearm. No charges have yet been announced however-” _

Petyr didn't need to hear more, he knew what was coming next and so he stood there gazing out into the night sipping at his whiskey, just waiting. Baelish was smarter than most, he knew Cersei would soon be calling him and demanding he protect her darling boy from anything more. Sure enough he only had to wait a few seconds before his cellphone started to ring, Petyr sighed  _off to work then._ In one smooth motion Petyr pulled the small cellphone from his grey suit pocket and hit the answer button while bringing it up to his ear. 

“Yes, Cersei?” 

“They arrested my son, Baelish. I want you to-” Petyr cut her angered voice off with his calm one.

“And you want me to hide every bit of evidence from that little brat pad of his before the police search it and find anything more.” Petyr took another sip of his amber whiskey. 

“That plaque on your office door may say CFO but you should remember your real profession, the one that makes you useful. Do it!” With that Cersei hung up leaving silence behind her. 

Cersei Lannister was right, his office door did say CFO but Petyr Baelish was much more than that. He had another title that no one knew of, Cleaner. He'd made a career of cleaning up the blood, semen and all the other evidence for the Lannisters and Baratheons, he wasn't just  _good_ at it he excelled.  His occupation as CFO was more of a side job, a way of making his payments legitimate... and of course Petyr had positioned himself in such a way that the company would die without him. He needed to get to and clean up after Joffrey though, no good would come of his charges getting worse... not yet anyway. 

XXXX

The dark-haired man drove quickly towards the edge of Kings Landing but made sure to stay within the speed limit, _work quickly but never draw attention,_ he'd learnt that early on in life and they were words he lived by, words he knew protected him. Each of the beyond expensive homes that lined Kings Landing's coast were lit up, shining in the night like palaces for all the Lords and Ladies. His own home was one of the smaller ones on the coast and hidden away in the hills looking almost as if it wasn't there. His own slice of isolation, not that he spent much time there; if Petyr wasn't cleaning up for others he was sitting in one of his three offices going over paperwork.

Leaving his car some distance away Petyr made his way to Joffrey Baratheon's house,  his bag of tricks hanging at his side. Baratheon had one of, if not _the,_ most hideous and overly  ostentatious mansions in Westeros. The so-called home had two floors the exterior of which was L shaped and painted in an off putting dark grey with sporadic voids that looked like windows.  _It looks like the brat designed it himself,_ thought  Baelish with a sigh,  _ no Joffrey has no vision what so ever and couldn't be bothered.  _ A gargantuan lit pool took up most of the back yard and seemed as though Joffrey was overcompensating for something. Stepping inside it got even worse. Everything was filthy, in the centre of Joffrey's living room was a large navy couch covered in fresh beer stains, immediately opposite stood a white painted coffee table that looked as though it had been flipped on more than one occasion. The table was a sea of empty and crushed beer cans with an ashtray containing countless cigarette and joint butts as the cans only punctuation. _ The maid must hate him with a passion, all this work on a daily basis. _ _Poor woman,_ Petyr certainly didn't envy her. 

In seconds Baelish had silenced his mind and pulled open his  duffel bag, he slipped on his black latex gloves and set to work. The beer cans and the random bags of drugs that lay about were thrown into a garbage bag never to be seen again. There was far too many drug bags for just personal use, but Joffrey had no need for the money he could make, which, most assuredly, meant he sold it just because he could; because his ego got some kind of sick power boost.  _Pathetic brat!_ Thought the dark-haired Cleaner. His hands never stopped moving, far too busy  hiding the evidence to still his hands. There was a reason that he was indispensable to the Lannisters; Petyr Baelish was unmatched when it came to his profession. 

There was a hideous gold ceramic ashtray smothered in fresh grey ash that found itself smashing into the bag along with everything else and soon he found a matching one in the kitchen. Even morons would have been disappointed when he came across the supposedly hidden armoury, the bookshelf latch was one of the easiest secret rooms he'd ever found; the door latch was probably the only _book_ the great Joffrey Baratheon had ever touched. The whole shelf was covered in dust, the incestuous infant probably refused to let any maid near it. 

“Should have let her clean it.” Petyr mused aloud. “Makes it so easy to see this book is the only one ever moved.” 

The so-called _hidden_ door, _ yeah hidden like a twelve year old girl hides  _ _a crush,_ swung open revealing a gold mine of weapons, throwing stars, a Katana and three overly decorative Samurai swords hung on the walls  old blood dried and coating the blades. Seemed that Joffrey had the beginnings of his own torture chamber, Petyr sneered, the brat knew nothing. The blades, guns and fire pokers went into the garbage bags easily before Baelish set about disinfecting all in sight. Petyr worked quickly and in silence, no idea of how long he'd have to dispose of the evidence before the police showed up to search Joffrey's home. Thankfully Joffrey seemed to have kept his blood lust mainly to that one secret room, it was the mass of drugs that would take the longest to deal with. Normally his job was just that  _a job_ nothing more but this one was more like a never ending chore.  _ Grin and bare it, Petyr.  _

Time passed and Joffrey's bedroom was all that remained, knowing he was running out of time Petyr simply got on with it and entered the blondes bedroom. There he froze, but only for a moment. 

“Fantastic.” He sighed.

Before him pinned to the bed by crossbow bolts was a young and reasonably pretty girl, dead. Her hair was horribly dyed bright red and Petyr was almost certain she was a prostitute.  _ Figures, no one would want Joffrey just for him. Money seems a pretty good reason.  _

“It at least explains the crossbow dumped downstairs.” He muttered to himself as he set to work.

Seeing the corpse Petyr realised he'd have been called to the outlandish home at some point that night no matter what. From his bag of tricks came a large sheet of transparent plastic that he set neatly on the dark hardwood flooring, barely a heartbeat later the girls body was dropped onto it with a thud. Blood stained the plastic and her dead skin. The neon green bolts were thrown into the bag each one clinking against the one before it, a twisted lullaby for the dead. He wrapped the thick sheet around her and tied it off, sealing her into the plastic coffin. Joffrey's bedsheets were next to go, they were wet with blood and the stench of iron filled the room; it was almost unbearable and so Petyr pushed open the large window letting the cold night air inside. He'd smelt more than enough blood for one lifetime.

The linen closet was easily found and the bed remade in pale orange sheets that actually gave the room some much needed color. Petyr functioned on auto pilot as he moved the body through the nigh and into his car trunk, returning to depose of the utterly barbaric porn stashed in Joffrey's night stand, it went far beyond BDSM, this was revolting; rape, abuse, sadistic pain that served no purpose than to make a woman cry.  It was discarded in his bag with a sneer of disgust. 

“I'm burning this.” Petyr decided firmly. 

Baelish went over the house again, a quick once over just to be sure everything had been taken care of. Petyr took pride in his work and always made sure to double check. Everything was in order, not a single thing remained that could bring new charges to the insufferable child. Entering the bedroom once more he was pleased to discover the scent of blood had been banished from the large and dark room. The man took a single step towards the window and found a squeaky floorboard but that was not what stopped him in his tracks. What froze him to the spot was the sound of movement, almost as though something had curled up onto a ball. Petyr knew no one could have gotten past him into the house,  _ could someone really have been quiet enough to remain concealed from me this whole time?  _ Petyr took his trusty lock knife from his pocket and clicked it open expecting a terrified prostitute or a pissed off drinking buddy of Joffrey's, he stood there waiting for them to make their move but nothing happened and Petyr started to wonder if he'd really heard anything at all. He pushed the Italian leather of his shoes down on the floorboard once more making it creak and echo around the room, a mew of fear was released. 

Green-grey eyes darted down to the dark space under the bed, without blinking Baelish crouched down and poked his head under the bed. A witness, a loose end. Anger filled his body. Under the bed there was little light but he could see the figure. Petyr pushed the sheets up on the bed out of the way. Thankful for the extra light now the sheet was out of the way. His eyes widened at the now clear person, the cause of the noise was a girl, or at least what looked like a girl. _Kill the girl!_ His mind ordered. She had her eyes clenched shut and was shivering on the ice like floor. _She knows what I_ _'_ _ve done. The girl must die!_ No loose ends, that was how he worked, why he was so successful. Petyr asked himself how he'd missed the her. _How?_ Baelish now had to eliminate the obstacle in his way before she could reveal his after hours job to the world. He reached into the darkness under the wooden frame and towards the girl. She began screaming at the top of her lungs and he was suddenly thankful that they were far away from anyone else. Petyr practically had to clamber under the bed in order to pull her out, dropping his blade to the floor as he did, she clawed at the floor, unsuccessfully almost denting the wood in desperation. The female obstacle tried to pull away back under the bed but Petyr proved far too strong for the struggling girl. With one arm he held her in place, while the other retrieved his trusty lock knife as he did he saw the girl clearly for the first time. His mind faulted for a moment and before he knew it the blade dropped, letting it make a metallic clang when it hit the floor. All anger in him at that moment lost the battle to shock, he saw what he had originally been oblivious to. The girl was naked and covered in a thick layer of dirt. Petyr pulled her closer into the moonlight to gain a better look at the nude and petrified form before him, but found something fighting him, something stronger than her desperate struggles. Petyr's mouth fell open, his green-grey eyes widened to the horror of what fought him. She was chained to the bedpost, most likely why the bed was strong and solid, older looking than everything else Joffrey had in his home. Again the girl tried to crawl back underneath the bed, but still Baelish was too strong. She screamed but it lacked volume, like she didn't have the energy.

Petyr's stormy orbs followed the silver linked chain up to an old brown leather collar tight around her neck, her body covered in painful purple-yellow bruises and small cuts, some so old that they had become scars. The chain would not let her move far beyond Joffrey's heavy bed. Her hair was long and wild, her lips cracked and dehydrated. The female's pale hands where caked in grime. She had clearly been bound to the bed, confined, for a long time, just how long he could not even imagine, but it was long enough for the collar to scar her dirty neck, burn it and rub it raw. Petyr loosened his grip, a result of his shock, he had killed but he was nowhere near capable of such cruelty. Seeing her single chance for escape she ripped herself out of his grasp and launched for the darkness, her little haven. His mind returned allowing him to grab the girl's thigh and pulled her back to him. Another traumatic squeal that burned his ears.

“Stop!” He shouted and instantly regretted it.

Her whole body tensed solid with fear. Silence rang out, all movement ceased. Petyr didn't mean to shout, however he was glad she had stilled. He had to kill her, she'd seen him, she knew, she saw. It would be kinder to kill her, she had been abused, she was scared, he had to do it. Baelish tried to convince himself it was right but she was not his victim. She was desperate to get back to her small place of safety. He gripped her shoulders and turned her, then it happened. A brief moment of eye contact, her azure eyes, the only glimmer of colour in the otherwise black room. Her orbs where filled with fear and tears, normally he found fear in peoples eyes to be amusing, but he couldn't enjoy this, she was in pain. At that moment his ability to kill was gone, the Cleaner's decision was made for him. Petyr could not harm her even if he wanted to. She looked to be around fifteen years old, a child. No anger remained in the Cleaner's body, all he felt for the child was... _was there even a word for it? Maybe not._

“Who are you?” He asked as gently as he could, remembering his previous yelling. 

The sound of his voice panicked the blue eyed one, her screaming had long since stopped but her tense struggles had not. She continued to reach, claw, towards what she viewed as safety. At a loss at how to steady the girl without shouting again he pulled her head to his chest and stroked her unwashed black hair soothingly. It was all he could think of, as a charismatic man he could easily comfort a woman via speech but when it came to a naked and traumatized child he had no idea what to do.

“It's alright.” He told the girl. “I won't hurt you.”

He knew she didn't believe him, the only reason she'd remained still so long was probably because she'd grown used to doing as she was told. Tragic. He couldn't kill her, not after seeing those orbs but he couldn't let her go free, the Lannisters would find her. Then an idea came to his talented head, one that might just work. Looking down to the chain he lifted it into his large hand and quickly started to wrap it around her neck, of course the girl surged with panic, raging through her body. 

“Be still.”

And that was just what the girl did, her body turned to stone; obeying. _How could anyone treat a girl this way?_

“You wont understand but I need you to play dead. Can you do that?”

Surprisingly she did as he asked and rather quickly too. Maybe she was prepared to die? Now that the panic was fading out she could see it again, see that death was something she wanted. If it wasn't for her heartbeat Petyr himself would have assumed she was dead. Was this girl so close to death in mind that her body followed so easily? Or was it that she feared disobeying? Before his mind completely left him Petyr pulled his phone from his pocket and took a photograph of her, one was all he needed. 

“That's it, I'm done.” He told her in a soft voice.

Her skin was so very pale, so cold and bruised. Baelish pulled off his dark suit jacket and wrapped it around her thin and fragile form, it would do little to help her since she was chilled to the marrow of her bones. The brunette girl's azure orbs locked on his blade when he took it in hand once more and followed it as the blade came up to the old leather, they widened in shock as the leather gave way and was sliced from her throat. Once it was gone she just stared at the chained collar on the floor, the Albatross gone from her neck. Petyr could safely guess she'd never expected to see that day, with her still in his lap terrified to move he reached into his bag that had been discarded beside them and pulled free his lock picks in their little black leather pouch. In seconds he had the padlock off the bed leg and began gathering the disgusting object up, sliced leather collar and all tossing it into his bag with everything else. Of everything Baelish had expected from Joffrey's house, a traumatized teenage girl chained to his bed was not on the list, it wasn't often that he was surprised; and this wasn't a pleasant surprise. 

“You won't believe me, but I _will_ protect you.”

How had this girl made him care with nothing more than a second of eye contact, he wasn't an easily swayed man and yet his ability to kill her was gone. There was something so familiar in those ocean deep eyes and he was determined to figure out why. 

A hand reached out to cup her ice like cheek but it never got there, Petyr halted in his movements when he heard a car stop outside. _The police, it has to be. No one else would come here. _As far as he knew anyway. _The window._ Petyr thought, he'd clocked it as a quick and easy escape the second the house had come into view; he was always prepared for the unexpected and refused to be blocked by the police. Yet now he had to carry a fragile young woman suffering from trauma, there was no time to think about it, the front door had opened and shut already. _Fuck it!_ He thought quickly before picking the girl up and throwing her over his shoulder and grabbing his duffel bag. The brunette didn't scream, not this time and Petyr was thankful for that. 

In seconds he was out of the window and on the garage roof, somehow he managed to land almost completely silently. Nothing but a leaf landing. Petyr's feet took him to the edge of Joffrey's garage roof quickly and without fuss, he chucked his bag down and looked at the distance. The drop would have been easily manageable had he not been carrying his new blue eyed mystery, however, she was with him and he had no idea but to just jump. Petyr landed with a heavy thud, his legs buckled and his knees planted against the soft green grass.

“Shit!”

Petyr tried to quiet the spark of pain that shot up his legs before he stood, thankfully he was obliged. Rising back to his full height and grabbing his bag Petyr vanished into the night, no one knew he was there save for Cersei and she'd tell no one since it benefited her darling little Bastard. 

But what to do about the naked girl in his arms?


	2. A Phoenix Rises From The Ashes

Neither Petyr nor the young woman clinging to his black suit jacket like a lifeline spoke as he drove the short distance to his home, beyond screaming he didn't even know if she could speak. He couldn't see a scar along her neck so Petyr assumed Joffrey hadn't damaged her her vocal cords beyond repair,  _doubt he would have thought to even do that._ It was more than likely the trauma keeping her silent. Would she ever speak again? 

H e turned into his garage and let the door fall shut, Petyr sat there for a while looking at her through the rear view mirror. Her eyes were lowered and if the girl could have curled up into a smaller ball she would have,  terror vibrated through her thin frame causing goosebumps to coat her skin. Everything in Baelish told him to kill her but after seeing those eyes it wasn't possible, he was stuck with  her. Eventually Petyr grew tired of just looking at her and  so opened the car door and stepped out  into the quiet white painted garage, the night air had crept in cooling the room and filling it with a pleasant scent that was utterly indescribable.  Petyr knew  the Sweetling in his back seat wouldn't move once he left her alone in the car, a deer caught in headlights. 

The car trunk clicked open and Joffrey's bags of crap were hauled out, there were eight in total all filled to the brim with stuff that Petyr thought belonged in landfills rather than a home. Howver, it belonged to the little incestuous brat and he could do without Cersei and Joffrey complaining so into the hidey-hole it would go. Over in the corner stood four dark blue plastic crates, to the untrained eyes they were just a stack of storage boxes, however Petyr knew the truth. Moving the crates out the way revealed a faint square outline of a secret hatch, opening it up the dark-haired Cleaner made quick work of hiding Joffrey's crap, he'd deal with it properly later on; burning Joffrey Baratheon's porn collection was pretty high up on his list of things to do after all. 

With a sigh Petyr returned to the car and opened the door to look at the girl, she hadn't moved, still gripped the suit jacket tightly.  _Such a scared little bunny rabbit,_ he grinned and reached for her. She shuffled away but  it was useless, all she did was back herself into a corner and made it easier for him to lift her into his arms. Her body was tense as he carried her through the garage door and into his home. 

The mystery girl clamped her eyes shut as he took her through the house up the stairs and into his bedroom. Petyr could tell she was fearful, what normal girl wouldn't be? The grime on her skin was so thick that Baelish could feel it  drifting to his own flesh; it was filthy and vile.  _ Something has to be done about this.  _ Having made up his mind the Cleaner turned to his right and carried the brunette  into his en suit where he set her down on the bamboo counter beside his basin.  Petyr couldn't help but wonder when she'd last had a bath, weeks at the very least.  After rolling up his sleeves  Petyr let the bath tap run, hot water collecting into a wonderful heated pool,  of course he noticed the way her beautiful blue orbs flashed down to the hot water then the floor and back. 

“I need to take this so you can have a bath.” He gestured to the black suit jacket he'd previously shrouded her in. 

Petyr knew she wouldn't want to let it go, she acted like it was some sort of safety net. She had no choice though and Petyr easily took the dark fabric from her and set it aside, she made a quick attempt to cover herself but it was pointless as he quickly moved her over into the bath, setting her down gently.

The girls eyes fluttered shut as the heat cuddled around her tiny frame, she'd never felt anything quite like this. Bath time with Joffrey had consisted of having a bucket of ice water thrown at her and then being screamed at and told to clean up the mess she'd made,  _or_ it would be far worse.  One of his favourite things had been to drag her into his own bathroom and hold her under the water until the blackness had started to close in, biting at the corners of her vision. Each and every time she'd thought it would be her last day alive but that never happened. Joffrey would never show enough mercy to kill her. 

“I'm just going to clean you up, alright?” She didn't answer him and Petyr didn't force her. 

He soaped up a wash cloth and started to rub it along her back, the water quickly turned muddy and brown, the layers of filth were so thick that Petyr started to wonder if she was just made up of old dead fragments of a once happy little girl. Just dust moulded together. As her body grew clean he discovered she was actually far more pale that he'd first thought but there were so many bruises, some had joined together to form one huge blue-purple mark that covered most of her back. There were little cuts all down her legs too, some old, some new, one had only just scabbed over while there were a plethora of others that were now scars.  _That sick bastard!_ Petyr's mind screamed. 

Baelish watched as she shivered, not from cold but terror, the girl showed no signs of moving though, far too afraid of the consequences.  _ How long has Joffrey been beating this girl down?  _ He wondered. Blood had dried down her arms and he realised it must have been from the prostitute when there were no marks he could connect the blood too.  The now visible whip marks gave him pause and Petyr wanted nothing more then to make Joffrey Baratheron hurt in that moment.  _Whip marks. He fucking whipped her?_ He couldn't think about that now though, he needed to just take care of her for now. 

“I need to wash your hair, okay?” Petyr offered her a smile but her eyes never looked up. 

When she didn't complain or try to shift away he started to lather up her hair, the white lava turned black almost instantly and Petyr sneered at the texture of her hair. Grease, that was all it felt like. It was disgusting for him to touch so how had she lived with it like this for so long?  Seeing her unsullied Petyr realised she was older than he'd first thought, not fifteen. 

“Closer to seventeen maybe even eighteen.” He mused aloud. “Not a child at all.” 

The dark-haired man  reached for a jug and filled it with slowly cooling water then poured it over her head washing away the grime and shampoo. Red.  Flaming red hair not brown as it had been before, Catelyn suddenly flashed into his mind. She was the only other he could compare the beautiful head of hair too.  _ Now is not the time to think of Catelyn,  _ the memory was too painful and so he pushed it far away back into the recesses of his mind. 

With his mind back on task the Cleaner pulled the plug and let the thick dirty water drain away after pulling the girl up and out of the bath. As he dried her off Petyr was pleased to see her skin far cleaner and though she didn't utter a single word he could tell she was happier too. Such a little thing had given his little redhead a new lease of life. 

“Come on.”

Without question she followed Baelish back into his bedroom and waited as he rooted through his closet in search of something for her to ware, in the end he found and old navy shirt that was missing the top two buttons; he vaguely remembered setting it aside for repair but it seemed he'd never gotten that far. 

“Here, you can put this on.” Petyr set down the shirt on his bed. “I'll get you something to eat.” 

With that he left the room and headed downstairs. Walking into his kitchen Petyr took a deep breath, that hair, so red and luxurious now it had been washed. The girl really could be something beautiful if she smiled and wasn't bruised from head to toe.  Returning his mind to the task of feeding his mystery girl,  Petyr was suddenly thankful he'd made Tomato soup the day before, in only a few moments he had it re-heated and in a smooth black bowl ready to be eaten. Baelish knew something more substantial would have to wait, he didn't want to upset her stomach, he guessed that she'd not been fed in days.  _She's so undernourished._

_Why did I take her? Why do I feel the need to protect her? It's because of those damn eyes._ They were so blue, so beautiful, so innocent and broken.  _ You can't kill someone so innocent can you, Petyr?  _ The Cleaner questioned himself. Either way Cersei Lannister had to think she was dead,  the girl had no chance if the mother lion knew she was still alive.  Baelish brought his burner cellphone out of his pocket and quickly sent the photograph and a small message to the lioness. 

_It's done. This one had killed herself by the time I got there._

There was no going back now,  Cersei knew he'd done his job and though the redhead was gone. Knowing he'd done all he could for the evening Petyr picked up the food tray and carried it up the stairs and back into his bedroom. As soon as he entered the room Petyr sighed, the shirt lay untouched on his large bed more importantly though... the girl was gone. Petyr put the tray down and looked around, he'd have heard her leave the room and when he poked his head into the bathroom he found it empty.  _Where the hell is she?_ Then it clicked she was under the bed, sure enough Petyr crouched down and found her curled up in a ball, still naked. She really did feel like the underside of a bed was her safe place. 

“Please come out.” He asked softly. “It's alright, you're safe, Sweetling.” 

When she didn't move Petyr repeated himself though the second time round it had an easy smile to go along with it. She still didn't move, look up or speak. 

“Sweetling, if you don't come out I'm going to have pull you out and neither of us want that.”

That got a response out of her and she obeyed, shuffling out towards the older man. The redhead let Petyr guide her to sit on his bed and then he pushed the tray towards her. Baelish threw the shirt into her lap, he could see she was cold. 

“Put this on.”

Then something he'd never expected happened, she pushed the shirt away. He raised a single eyebrow and then the second thing he'd not expected happened, she spoke, well, stuttered.

“Not... allowed... clothes.” She took a shaky breath, her voice was so small. “Master said.”

Petyr felt his heart twinge and clench,  something he hadn't felt in such a long time. Her voice was so small and timid and for some reason it just made him want to care for her even more.  _Why does she have this effect on me?_ In that moment Petyr's heart decided something and refused to let his mind have any say in the matter. Joffrey Baratheon would  _never_ hurt her again. It was his silent promise to her. 

“He can't make any rules any more, he won't hurt you.” _How is she making me care?_ “Put your arms up.” 

She quickly obeyed and raised her arms up in the air so as Baelish could slip the navy shirt over her naked form.  _It's a little odd that she did as I asked so quickly,_ he thought but Petyr didn't question it much more than that. The dark blue was a wonderful contrast against her pale skin and  fiery red heir, utterly delectable.

“Here, eat while I tidy the bathroom.” Petyr held out a silver spoon and when she didn't make any move to take it he placed it in her hand. “Eat.”

With that he walked off leaving her in peace to eat. Petyr sneered when he saw the ring of grime left on his bathtub, the white claw footed exterior tainted by the now black interior. As he cleaned Petyr's mind wandered off to thoughts of the girl in his bedroom, he wondered when the last time she'd left Joffrey's room was, weeks? Longer? The fluffy white towel he'd dried off her skin with was stained with blood drops and would never be  _white_ again. Petyr poked his head out into the bedroom and was pleased to see her eating, the motion was slow as if she was unsure but she ate nevertheless. 

Time passed by and Petyr returned his bathroom to its usual pristine state  before going back to the girl, what he saw made him grin ear to ear. She was curled up in a little ball like a sleeping cat, he couldn't help but think about how utterly adorable she looked. Not wishing to disturb her Petyr simply covered her over with his dark green duvet and left the room, switching off the light and taking the food tray with him.  It was obvious that exhaustion had forced her to sleep and not any kind of relaxation. 

Discarding the tray Petyr headed down to his office, helping himself to a glass of Whiskey and slumping down into his black leather armchair and gazing out the floor to ceiling window into the night. Looking out into the darkness had always given Petyr a sense of peace, as to why that was he didn't know, probably never would. Storms comforted him the most. 

As he watched the night Petyr found himself thinking about the redhead's eyes again, they were full of horror yes but there was such innocence and intellect in there as well. 

“She could play the game if she wasn't so broken.” He mused to himself as he sipped the last of his amber liquid. “She could certainly climb the ladder of chaos.”

With his mind full of her Petyr decided it was time to retire to bed, he didn't sleep much but the day had been taxing.  _I think the guest room would be best._

“Don't want to go terrifying her any more than I have already.”

Slumber called out to him and Petyr Baelish could not refuse, not with his eyelids as heavy as feathers made of lead. Unconsciousness was to be his Mistress until a new day dawned. 


	3. The First Draft Is Just You Telling Yourself The Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is a quote by Terry Pratchett.

So many colors lit the morning sky, every shade of blue scattered among rich purples punctuated by bold red and orange as if by a celestial hand. Twilight had melted away and the golden sun had filled the sky: a new day had dawned. Abstract rays of light spilled out over the horizon coating the landscape as far as the eye could see, calling forth a shimmer from every remaining drop of rain that remained of the last evenings downpour. The air was clear and fresh just as it always was after the heavens had opened, delicate light scurried through the clouds and once again the sky was majestic and powerful. Petyr cared not for the look of the new day though, he never watched the clouds there was too much going on down on earth. Clouds didn't hide secrets like people did. 

With day having reared its head Petyr was awake, he'd never been one for sleeping in; always had far too much to do, to plot. Waking up in his guest room had given him pause along with a few seconds of  _why in fuck am I in here?_ Though that had soon passed when memories of  the previous evening had returned to him. The girl. The blood. Joffrey's arrest. All of it came back and Petyr quickly decided he wasn't thinking about it until at least his second cup of coffee. 

Eventually that second cup of coffee came and went leaving Baelish with his thoughts of the redhead. What was he going to do with her? Keep her? Leave her outside a hospital? A church? Petyr had always been  quick to think up a plan but when it came to that girl his mind failed him, no plot came to him. She slowed his brain to a stand still. 

He slipped two slices of buttered brown toast onto a coal-black plate and then set it on a breakfast tray along with a cool glass of orange juice. Petyr carried it upstairs in silence and softly opened the door to his bedroom... but she wasn't there. 

“Sweetling?” He called out as he set the tray down.

There was no response and he instantly realised where she would be.  Crouching down Petyr found her  in a ball beneath the bed. The redhead was a light sleeper, had to be, she'd been awake since the moment he'd opened the door but her body refused to move. With a soft smile Petyr spoke. 

“It's time to come out and eat, Sweetling.” She didn't move. “Come on out, or your toast will get cold and your orange juice will get warm.” He held out a hand. 

Reluctantly she took the offered hand but kept her eyes down cautiously. She let him guide her to sit comfortably on his bed and began eating at his request. Toast crunched in her mouth and she couldn't remember the last time she'd been fed so well, Petyr was so good to her. 

Happy to see her eat the dark-haired man walked off to his closet and started to pull out fresh clothes; white shirt, red boxers, black pants and a matching suit jacket. Laying everything down on his dresser Petyr started to unbutton the shirt he'd slept in. The crunching of toast quickly grounded to a halt and the Cleaner looked up, her dazzling blue eyes were locked on his chest in fear; her whole body rigid. At first Petyr thought it was the long scar running down his torso but it wasn't that she was looking at and then it clicked. 

“No, Sweetling. I'm just going to take a shower. I have no intention of touching you.” 

Petyr grabbed his clothes and discarded his old shirt and boxers in his wicker hamper before walking towards his bathroom. 

“Finish eating, Sweetling. Once you're done you can do as you please, just don't leave the room.” 

The door shut behind him and the sound of running water slipped through the walls. Peryr had no thoughts as he cleansed his skin, never did, water washed everything away including his thoughts and troubles. The sensation of steamy hot water calmed him, closing his eyes Petyr just let the cascade soak into his skin and put him at ease. Water was pure and washed away his sins. Soon enough his peace came to an end and Petyr knew it was time to step out when his skin started to wrinkle. His skin towel dried easily leaving it clean and warm. He couldn't stay there forever and so once dressed Petyr followed his feet back into his bedroom. The redhead was stood gazing out the window at the ocean, that wasn't what caught his attention though, her nakedness had.

“What are you doing?” He asked quickly with a raised eyebrow and the girl jumped.

“Master said...” _Did she just speak again?_ “... that... pet could do as she pleased... as... long as... pet didn't leave.” Her voice was timid and panicked as she stuttered. “Pet will be good. Sorry Master, sorry.” 

While he was pleased she'd  finally spoken Petyr still wanted to know  the reason for her nakedness. In the daylight he could see  just how dark and painful her bruises were,  they yellowed around the edge  and stretched up her body covering almost every inch of her otherwise  porcelain skin. 

“Why did you take your shirt off?” Petyr tried to ask softly, eyes locked on the neatly folded shirt resting on his bed. 

“Master... has such... nice things.” _Why is she calling me 'Master'?_ “Pet doesn't want to... ruin it with her blood.” 

Petyr furrowed his brow at that,  _blood?_ That twinge in his heart started up again  and whatever it was making him want to protect her forced his body to move forwards, hands pressing to her shoulders to look for a wound. 

“What blood? You're wounds should have scabbed over by now.” Looking down Petyr found crimson dripping down between her milky thighs. “Oh.” 

After cleaning the redhead up and what was the most awkward and quickest store visit of his life, Petyr had her dressed in another of his old shirts, this time an emerald green one,  and had taken the  little bird  down to his living room. 

“Sit down, Sweetling.” 

In an instant the redhead dropped to her knees,  hitting the hardwood with a thud. Petyr's eyes dropped down as well and an eyebrow raised in silent question. 

“That's not what I meant-”

“Sorry Master. Pet is sorry.” Apologies fell from her lips in a single fearful burst. 

Her eyes remained downcast as though she were not worthy to gaze upon him. Petyr pulled her up to sit on the couch and then dropped down beside her, he lowered his head in an attempt to catch her azure eyes but it was pointless, they remained locked on the floor. 

“Now.” The Cleaner began while running a hand through his perfectly groomed hair. “What's your name, Sweetling?” 

After a time she began slowly.

“New Master... can call Pet what he likes. Pet. Bitch. Slut. Whore.” Each suggestion more agonising to hear than the last.

“Those aren't names, Sweetling. What's your _name_?” He asked again. 

The girl didn't answer him and Petyr found himself just _looking_ at her, there was something so familiar about her, _she looks just like Cat._ Fiery red hair, pale skin and bottomless cerulean eyes. That was when it clicked, the proverbial penny dropped letting the noise echo around the room like a bomb had gone off. _Cat! She looks like Cat._ Which could only mean one thing. _Sansa! She's  Sansa. _How had he not seen it sooner? The Lannisters had been the ones to kill the Starks all that time ago, she was Sansa, it made sense. 

“Are you Sansa?” The question came out more nervously than he'd intended and quieter too. 

“No! No! No Master! Don't deserve name!”

She became frantic and her blue orbs filled with horror,  that confirmed it for him, she  _was_ Sansa. Before Petyr knew  it his arms had moved they'd slipped around her thin form and pulled her to him, her body grew  stiff .  If she hadn't already forgotten how to cry she would have. 

“Oh Sansa, you deserve a name. You have one, you've always had one. It's Sansa Stark.” 

Petyr spoke through gritted teeth, hearing Cat's daughter talk of herself as though she were nothing angered his soul and let his green-grey eyes grow stormy. 

“As Master wishes.” She sniffled, still unsure as to whether she was allowed to speak or not. 

“You don't have to call me that, Sweetling.” He assured, arms still round her tense frame. 

“Master owns Pet.” She said simply.

“You're Sansa, not  _Pet._ I don't own you, but I will take care of you.” Baelish sighed. “It's the least I can do for Cat.” 

Time passed and Petyr just clung to her, a Stark remained, a piece of Cat lived on. Suddenly the reason he'd wanted to care for and protect her was clear. Sansa had grown into quite the beautiful young woman despite Joffrey's torture and Petyr was determined to make those eyes shine again.  _ For Catelyn.  _

Birds sang outside from their  nests high up in the  trees, the only noise beyond the man and woman’s breaths. Her skin was cold but his heat easily drifted through his perfectly tailored suit and  past her pores, warming her. It had been a very long time since someone had last held Sansa with care, most of her life had been filled with pain. Sansa remembered so much of her childhood and yet somehow nothing at all. What her Mother and Father looked like had left her memory,  just a blur now , Sansa knew she resembled her Mother but that was it. The faces of her siblings had almost faded as well, Sansa couldn't even remember her youngest brother's name,  Rikard? Rikter? It was something like that and each day that Sansa couldn't remember was more painful than the last.  Robb and Jon were the only ones she remembered with any clarity, she could see Robb's hazel eyes glazed over, Jon's dark hair dripping with warm blood. In truth all Sansa Stark could remember of her siblings was their deaths. 

Sansa's mind snapped back when he started speaking again, she knew a great deal of time had gone by with the two of them in utter silence but that looked like it was over. His voice was deep and dominant but not cruel like her old Master's had been, there was no malice hidden in his tone. 

“I told the company I would work from home today so I could take care of you, but I do have some things to do. I'll be in the house so if you need me just call alright?” Sansa didn't look up, didn't speak. “I won't be gone too long. You can go anywhere in the house but please don't leave, you'll get hurt or lost.” Without another word Petyr left the room. 

There was much for him to think about and he still wasn't certain how he felt about her calling him _Master._ Petyr wasn't going to lie, the word _Master_ definitely fed his ego and forced a smug smile onto his face but she was Cat's daughter and had been abused her whole life. 

It took him a while but soon enough Petyr had Joffrey's guns and blades stored neatly in his secret lock box out in the garage, the porn magazines that were abuse for abuses sake would never be seen again; they were just ash and dust now. The Cleaner seriously doubted Joffrey would ask for it back, and even if he did Petyr would just say Sansa tore it all up before her death. The dead prostitute he'd not been expecting but it wasn't the first time he'd had to dispose of body,  _never use_ _lime_ Petyr thought, it had been the first lesson he'd learnt. Most people didn't realise it actually preserved a body. 

“So what to do with a dead body?” He mused to himself sarcastically. “They're born, they live and then they're murdered. Then what? Goodwill's not accepting bodies any more and it's too big to fit down the garbage disposal.” Petyr grinned in amusement. 

His boat was the next place for the  young  prostitute, in the basement Petyr had made quick work of turning her into a jigsaw puzzle  and later on when Sansa was asleep and safe under the cover of darkness; Petyr would make sure no one ever found the body. The Cleaner certainly loved sharks, they were so helpful and the waters of Kings Landing had sharks  in abundance. Those he disposed of were never found. 

The afternoon was in full bloom and Petyr had everything in place to finish his work as Cleaner, however, his work as Lion and Stag's CFO still waited. Petyr had been gone a while though and found himself worried that Sansa would grow lonely, he looked through the house once he found she'd moved from the living room. He'd expected to find her unmoved from his black leather couch yet she was nowhere to be found. Baelish opened his mouth to call out to her but shut it again quickly, _don't want her thinking I'm angry she's moved._ The library was where he found her. His library was hidden at the back of his house behind a large round arch doors the color of sandalwood with little glass panels. Beyond those doors was a hexagonal chamber with every single wall lined with cherry wood bookshelves, Petyr had worked hard on his literary collection a love he'd picked up from his Mother; not that he'd known much of her. There was a small catwalk that went around the whole room, up there were only one or two bookshelves punctuated by small circular windows that let in almost angelic rays of light. In the very centre of the little sanctuary stood a sleek black piano; the room truly was beautiful. 

Sat on the floor with her back to him was Sansa, she looked so small curled up looking at the book titles. Her hair hung around her face like a cloak of fire and contrasted the navy shirt she wore wonderfully. 

“You can read them if you like.” Said Petyr leaning against the doorway. 

Sansa jumped back and turned but her eyes were downcast as usual, she looked like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. 

“Can't Master.” Sansa's voice was so small that Petyr strained to hear her. 

He sighed. Thinking about it Sansa's family had been murdered when she was eight, that was ten years ago now and Petyr knew she'd not been let near a book that wasn't one of Joffrey's porn magazines since that day. What she'd learnt of reading and writing was probably long gone. His heart clenched again, she was the only person to make him care for someone other than himself in a very long time. Petyr wanted nothing more than to make Joffrey Baratheon hurt, _that will have to wait._ In silence he walked over to a dark set of draws and took out a yellow legal pad and a sleek silver pen before sitting himself beside her on the dark floor.

“You can't write either can you?” He asked softly and Sansa shook her head. “I'll teach you. Would you like that, Sweetling?”

“Master should not... waste his time or... kindness on Pet.” She mumbled.

“You're Sansa, not Pet.” He said softly and Sansa instantly corrected herself. 

“Master should not waste his time or kindness on... Sansa.” 

_Close enough. I guess it's progress._ He hated seeing her like that, broken and beaten. Petyr knew she could be so much more,  she could have everything.  Petyr would do anything to get what  he wanted and what  he wanted  now was for Sansa to be whole again.  He knew she had that strength deep inside her, underneath all the broken glass  and dry crimson blood; Sansa was powerful. 

“Sansa you are so much more than the Lannisters have lead you to believe.” She could hear the truth in his voice. “Now, do you want to learn?” The redhead nodded. “What do you remember?”

“Not much, Master.” She began cautiously, voice still tiny. “Sansa remembers... letters, Master. 

“ _I_ not Sansa or Pet. You're not a thing, you're a person.” 

“ _I,_ Master.” 

“Better. Now let us start simply.”

Petyr clicked the pen on  and quickly scribbled down the alphabet, he was pleased she'd opened up to him, he'd never expected her to be quite so talkative but it showed just how strong she was. Once all twenty-six letters coated the page Petyr wrote down a single word in capital letters and handed the pad and pen to the girl. 

“Here copy this.”

Sansa obeyed and started to recreate the letters on the page, she held the pen like an eight year old and Petyr couldn't help but smile at the concentration on her face.  _ Sansa is still in there, she's still a person deep down.  _ It didn't take her very long for her to finish and the way she presented him with the pad was as if Sansa had forgotten she'd been held captive for ten years. Petyr loved the strength inside her. 

“Do you know what you just wrote?” Petyr asked softly.

“No, Master.”

He looked down to the yellow lined page before back to to the redhead. 

 

** SANSA **

 

“That's your name, Sweetling. It says 'Sansa'. Well done.” 

Sansa had never been praised before, then again even if she had Sansa wouldn't have remembered it. 

“Thank you, Master.” She said quietly, her place remembered. 

“We'll try Stark next, then my name.”

All Petyr's dominance and egotistic authority  faded away when it came to the eldest Stark girl. It had only been a few hours since he brought her to his home yet she'd already started speaking to him  in sentences  and was learning to use  _ I  _ and  _ Sansa  _ rather than Pet. Petyr guessed the latter was more out of fear of the consequences than anything else.  _ There's still a long way for her to come, but she's already started her journey.  _


	4. The Best Gifts Come From The Heart

Two weeks had passed since taking the Stark girl into his home, the prostitutes body was safely in the belly of several sharks and Cersei truly believed that Sansa was with those sharks as well. The lioness was more concerned with protecting her beloved little boy and getting him off drug and weapon charges than some little redhead anyway.  The press was having a field day with Joffrey's arrest and the law wanted to throw the book at him to make an example, regardless Tywin Lannister wouldn't let that happen, little brat or not Tywin wouldn't let his family name be tarnished. 

Re-teaching Sansa how to read and write  had proved to be far easier than he'd first believed, but Petyr had been pleased to be proven wrong;  Sansa was smart. She'd come so far in just a few days and the Cleaner found himself proud, his newly required redhead wasn't going to write a novel any time soon but there was no denying her intellect or progress.

It was around ten o'clock in the morning when Petyr walked into  his rich blue living room trimmed with black and found the girl sat cross-legged on his dark couch. Sansa had donned  another one of Petyr's never worn shirts, this time a pale pink one that had been a present from Lysa. Pink certainly wasn't his color.  Sansa however, looked beautiful in it.  She was scribbling on the yellow legal pad he'd given her, as always; Sansa had made it her mission in life to practice the letters  Petyr had shown her. It was probably out of fear for the consequences but still.

Baelish looked over her shoulder as he entered the room and found her doodling on the bottom of the page, it took him a second but he soon realised it was a poppy.  _How does she know what they look like though?_ Petyr looked up and out the patio doors and out into his yard,  there on the far right was a line of deep red poppies. Petyr couldn't help but smile.

“That's beautiful.” He told her honestly.

Sansa all but jumped from her skin upon hearing his voice, her eyes burst wide though they remained downcast.  Her body trembled as if expecting to be punished but he could see her trying to hide it.

“Sorry Master.” She began hastily. “Sansa should obey. Sorry Master. Sorry.”

“You've nothing to be sorry for and you're not a slave, Sansa.” He absent-mindedly ran a hand through her hair and felt her tense, she really had never been touched with such kindness. “I need to go out for a while, Sweetling. You stay here, I'll be back in a few hours. I'm sure you'll be alright until I return.”

“As Master wishes.” She mumbled.

Petyr rounded the couch and took his wallet from the glass coffee table before throwing her a smile and speaking once more. 

“Here.” He said handing her one of his several burner phones, Sansa hesitantly took it. “Don't go outside, Sweetling. That is a rule.”

The dark-haired man proceeded to teach his redhead how to use the phone with simple instructions that she seemed to lock away in her memory quickly.

“Now you know how to call me, but only do it if it's important. Only I know this number so if it rings answer it. I doubt anyone will come here but do not answer the door.”

Petyr was pleased when she nodded in understanding, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her pale forehead. It was small and only for a millisecond but  Petyr certainly noticed the little tug at her lips, so small and yet it made him so happy.

“Goodbye Master.” Sansa muttered. 

“Bye, Sweetling.” 

Leaving the house Petyr questioned himself on why he kissed her forehead, something in him just wanted to care for her. It went way beyond  doing it for Catelyn, Sansa did something to him, made him care. Petyr was on auto pilot as he drove to the grocery store,  two weeks he'd spent in his house with Sansa, two weeks was probably the longest he'd spent there in one stretch. He was running out of decent meals to cook and that was something Petyr would not stand for; a store trip was definitely needed. 

As he wandered Petyr found himself picking up things he thought she'd like, did she like Strawberries? Chocolate? Ice cream? Did she prefer meat or fish? Baelish was determined to discover the answers. Once everything was done and paid for Petyr went to  _The Mockingbird_ his beloved brothel, the public would never know of his side business  and sometimes Petyr himself couldn't remember how many pies he had his fingers in. The brothel was hidden out of the way but everyone knew of it, _The Mockingbird_ the den of iniquity everyone either loved or despised  and Petyr was proud the amount of information he got from his whores. 

Stepping through the large Gothic door Petyr was greeted by  two of his bartenders preparing for the evening, Petyr's brothel was just that but he'd worked it in such a way that the police knew exactly what it was could do nothing about it.

“Good morning Boss.”

Greeted one woman with long blonde hair held up in pink tails and a Catholic school girl outfit that would make a priest blush.

“It's afternoon now, Briony. But still hello.” Petyr shot the beauty a grin. “ To you as well Azah.” 

The other bartender looked up from wiping the bar down, her hair was pinned up in a messy bun that  let long dark tresses hang loose around her face. Azah had smooth mocha skin and a tight orange dress that clung to her body in all the right places,  she was one of the more stunning girls in his employ. 

“Has anyone called in sick or made up some pathetic reason they can't come in?” Petyr asked accepting a glass of whiskey from Briony. 

“No Boss. Katrina said she's going to be late though.”  Azah told him. 

“Katrina is always late. If she wasn't so good at her job I'd have gotten rid of her years ago.”

Petyr tipped the glass back and finished the amber liquid off before setting the crystal down on the bar and heading off towards his office, a door marked simply as  _Owner._ A small word that held so much power.  Stepping inside Petyr found his desk untouched since last he'd been there, as the door shut he let his alter ego take over, his brothel was not  the domain of Petyr Baelish; it was that of Littlefinger. Sitting at his desk the dark-haired man looked over his rota for the evening. Just a list of names Ros had jotted down for him, more and more he was letting her handle things.

 

_FEMALE       MALE  
_

_ Armeca        Olyvar _

_ Daisy         Reiji _

_ Genna        Kiba _

_Kayla        Jeremy_

_ Mhaegen     Teiichi _

_ Mirelle         Daryl _

_ Marei        Mads _

_ Danika     William _

_Scarlett      Dimitri_

_Siobhan Tyger _

_Trixie Oska _

_ Azah         Alexis _

_Lucinda      Patrick_

_Yuki        Angelo_

_Kitty       Neal_

_Briony     Bobby_

 

There were a few more names on the next piece of paper but Littlefinger didn't bother looking at them, he could guess who else was in,  Ros was easily anticipated. Sometimes Petyr was surprised by just how large his brothel was, then there were other times when it seemed like a tiny side business. 

“I was wondering when you’d come back to see us, Littlefinger.” Said Ros as the redhead entered his office. 

“Azah told us you were here.” Added Olyvar following in behind Ros.

“Yes, I've had more important things to attend to. I thought the two of you were capable of functioning without me for a little while. Was I wrong?” Littlefinger raised his eyebrows questioningly while lighting a cigarette.

“Nah, trust me I function _very_ well, thank you very much.” Olyvar mused with a grin. “Maybe you'll let me show you sometime, boss.” 

“Olyvar, the day I see you  _function_ is the day I claw my own eyes out.” The two men chuckled. “  Now Oly,  Loras Tyrell will be in later and you know how he feels about you-”

“Pretty _firm_ if  Olyvar's stories are true.” Mused Ros aloud. 

Petyr's cigarette smoke danced on the air floating upwards towards the quiet extractor fan that was there only to take away the drifting fog. 

“Don't worry boss, I'll take care of it.” The blonde man assured.

Talk went on like that for a time, basic business mixed with sarcastic comments and smug smiles. Eventually  Olyvar left to tend to his chores and prepare for a night of pleasing Loras Tyrell, leaving Petyr and Ros alone. 

“Ros, now Oly as finally left. I was wondering if you had a spare dress, something simple and basic is fine, I also need a pair of your shoes, flats.”

Petyr asked like it was the most normal request in the world. Ros raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“Nothing that would fit you, your bust-line is a little small for my dresses.” She giggled.

“ _Don't_ joke with me, Ros.” He warned.

“Fine, fine. How tall is your mystery girl?” The redhead asked folding her arms in front of her chest.

“She's my height.” He told her quickly.

“And her feet?”

“Around a six, they don't have to fit perfectly.”

“Alright, give me a minute.”

Ros had lived in the apartment above his brothel more or less since he took her on, to begin with it had made it easier to have her watch over everything but with Olyvar she wasn't necessary. Petyr finished going through some papers while he waited for the redhead to return, he started to feel bad for leaving Sansa alone; there was no way around it but still he felt like he was abandoning her. Sansa hadn't called him and so he knew nothing was wrong, yet there was still something deep down inside him, something he hadn't used in a very long time continued to worry, his heart.  _What is that girl doing to me?_ Littlefinger didn't have chance to continue his train of thought because Ros burst back into the room with a length of white fabric draped over her right arm, a pair of red flats in the same hand and a small bag in her left.

“So I think I've found something that will fit her. It's old, I haven't worn it in years.” Said the redhead with cherry red lined lips. “The flats are a five but they should fit. I got some new underwear as well, haven’t worn it yet and I have no idea if the bra will fit her.”

“Thank you, Ros. I appreciate it.” Petyr signed his name on the bottom of his last document before standing and taking the dress and mass of other things from his second in command. “I've done everything I needed to do, call me if Olyvar does something stupid.” 

With that Petyr was gone from the building. The golden sun was high in the sky burning bright with the day, white clouds floated through the sky on a gentle breeze. _Sansa would like this, _ he thought seemingly from nowhere. Petyr sat in his sleek grey Aston Martin for a while, the driver's window rolled down and a cigarette hanging loosely from his pink lips, he adored his DBS. The smoke flooded into his lungs before slipping out past his lips in a gently floating stream, each breath calmed him and cleared his mind. Petyr knew he really should quit but he just couldn't bring himself to try. Petyr threw the butt out his window... and that was when he saw it.

Baelish had been gone longer than he'd wanted by the time he returned home, Petyr quickly put the grocery before going back to his car to get  the dress and a little something else. The dress hung over one arm and a white handled paper bag in the other hand. He found her unmoved on the couch with a pen still in her hand, _such a hard little worker._

“Welcome home, Master.”  Sansa greeted, cerulean eyes locked on the hard wood floor. 

“Hello, Sweetling. I have something for you.”

Petyr set the bag down and held out the white dress towards her, Sansa's eyes moved upwards looking at the dress but she dared not look at his face.  Suddenly her eyes grew wet and blurred, Sansa had thought she'd forgotten how to cry. He came towards her and Sansa expected pain for her weakness but there was none, instead strong arms snaked around her and pulled Sansa to his chest in an embrace. Did this new Master actually care about her? 

“Sweetling, what's with these tears?” He asked softly, far more softly than he knew was possible. 

“Master...” She stammered. “... is too kind to... Sansa. Pet doesn't... deserve it.” 

“Sansa you deserve more than you think. Now, let's take this shirt off and put the dress on, shall we?”

Sansa obeyed letting him slowly pull the pink shirt up over her head. She felt no shame a her nakedness, Joffrey had taught her that she had no right too,  but as the white a-line dress slipped over her pale skin she felt like someone finally cared. Petyr took a step back and just  _looked_ at her, the dress was a cream white with thin little straps and small decorative  gold buttons down  the whole front, chest to skirt. Her skin was a little too pale for such a color but it went outstandingly with her long red locks and angelic eyes.

“There, you look beautiful. We'll get you some better clothes later.” Petyr told her while wiping shed tears from Sansa's cheeks. “I have another present for you as well.” Baelish looked down to the paper bag beside him on the floor and then back to Sansa. “But first I want you to write me one sentence all of your own, not one you've copied.” 

He watched as Sansa pressed her pen to paper and thought hard, letters were carefully written and then scribbled out when she realised a letter was wrong. Finally she held out the pad for him to read.

_Sansa likes Master._

Petyr grinned at that, so simple but so meaningful. He quickly congratulated her then bent to retrieve the bag before presenting it to her. Cautiously Sansa opened the bag and pulled out her presents; pencils both graphite and colored, a pen shaped eraser and finally a large drawing pad. 

“I saw the poppy you were drawing earlier, I think you should have somewhere to draw properly.” He told her truthfully. That brought Sansa's eyes forth anew. 

“Master is too... good to Pet.” _There's that word again._ “Too nice.”

“I'm not normally nice to people, you seem to be the exception.” Petyr smiled, his hand came up to brush away the tears again. “No more crying. You're too beautiful for that.” 

“Yes Master.” She said quickly.

“How about you draw me something pretty, hmm? I'll make an early dinner.”

 _This suddenly got very domestic_ thought Petyr with a grin as he walked off towards the kitchen. _ That girl really does have an effect on me.  _He still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

For now it was a grey area.


	5. A Smile And A Sob Story

Thunder screamed in the heavens that night, so violently that Zeus seemed choleric and murderous. The sky was a sheet of black slate with not a single star shining through the clouds, rain crashed against windows and trees creaked in pain as thick winds bombarded them. Each flash lit up Petyr Baelish's bedroom with a supernatural and eerie light every few seconds followed closely by booms of thunder. The storm was upon them now. Poseidon's waves crashed down on the beach ferociously with no sense of rhythm, it was all in a frenzy. Strangely though this orchestra of the Gods had not been the thing to wake him from his slumber, if anything storms helped Petyr sleep better than usual. No, what had woken him was something that was almost muted by the evening's storm, Sansa was crying, he could hear it through the wall. 

Petyr turned his head in the dark to face the wall that their bedrooms shared, for years it had just been a guest room but now he found himself mentally referring to it as  _ Sansa's room.  _ Most people probably wouldn't have noticed it, especially over the storm, but Baelish wasn't  _most people._ Unable to return to sleep Petyr rose from his dark green sheets and sighed either the horrific memories had caught up with her or he was the only one being comforted by the storm high above,  _it's probably both._ He slipped quickly out of bed and walked to her room in the dark, wearing nothing but his long black silk sleep pants. Petyr didn't hesitate he just walked in and crouched down to look at her, she'd not slept in the bed since the day he'd gifted her the room and that was two weeks previous.  Tearful blue eyes had clenched shut and her hands fisted around the purple shirt she slept in. 

“What's wrong, Sweetling? Is it the storm?” Petyr asked calmly, he really needed to sleep. 

A s if giving him a demonstration thunder struck again and the bedroom lit up with an evil glow, Sansa whimpered and curled into herself even more as if trying to vanish into oblivion. The man didn't speak, knew Sansa didn't trust words any longer, he simply reached up to the bed and pulled a pillow from it, throwing it under the bed before tugging the ocean colored comforter free as well. In only a few moments the dark-haired man had shimmied up to her and covered them both over with the soft fabric.  Sansa was confused at first but let Petyr pull her to his chest, he'd never been one for cuddling but he'd come to realise that when he was with Sansa he was a whole different man. The Mockingbird had Littlefinger, Lion and Stag Enterprises has Petyr Baelish CFO, the Lannisters had  The Cleaner, but Sansa,  she had Petyr Baelish protector  and he was beginning to think that was his most important role.  He really was a different man around her. 

“It's alright, it's just a storm. Nothing can hurt you.” His tone was soft and comforting.

S he weighed barely anything against his naked chest, fists still  clenched in fear but he could feel her shaking begin to cease, her old Master had never held her with comfort, never whispered sweet calming words to her.  Petyr stayed like that, unmoving for the better part of an hour until finally Sansa's breathing evened out and she slipped into slumber.  The storm started to fade as well and Petyr felt a sense of loss  at that but sleep called to him and Petyr decided he didn't care.  He joined her in  sleep. 

The next morning came and Petyr registered something unusual before he even opened his eyes, most days were the same; open his grey orbs to find a white ceiling and nothing more but there was something off. He  _felt._ There was a smile on his lips and his hips moved slowly back and forth, suddenly the evening before came back to him and  Petyr's eyes flew open to see the slats of his guest bed  and an instant later  his head shot down to his still moving hips... they stilled in a heartbeat. There, bent over his lap was Sansa, his hard member deep in her warm mouth. The Littlefinger part of his brain wanted to grip her fiery hair and thrust into her mouth but the protector side got there first and pulled her up and off him.  Her lips glistened with a mix of saliva and pre-cum, normally he'd have found that heavenly.

“What are you doing?” He asked more out of shock than anything else.

S ansa's cerulean orbs squeezed shut in fear of punishment  as she answered her Master's question. 

“How... how Sansa should wake Master up.” Her voice was almost mute. 

“Did he tell you that?” There was no need to specify who _he_ was, Sansa just nodded. “Well you don't have to do it to me. But...” He began absent-mindedly. “... you're rather good at it.” 

“But Master is hard.” She leaned back down but Petyr caught her and pulled her back. 

“No!” He said far more forcefully than he'd intended. “You're not a sex slave.” He sighed. “I'm not angry, Sansa. Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to take a shower.” 

He doubted she would realise what that was code for,  maybe it was better that way. 

When he emerged, praying she'd not heard him moan out her name, Petyr dressed himself quickly in a black Armani suit with a crisp white shirt and paired it with his Italian leather shoes. His h ai r was in perfect place as always, coal black with a little grey around his temples;  elegant and powerful but somehow in a  _trust me_ kind of way.  Returning to Sansa's room he found her  huddled up in a ball looking sorry for herself, he'd told Sansa he wasn't angry with her but that didn't change the fact she felt like she'd displeased him. 

“Sweetling, I need you to come out from under there for me and put your dress on.” 

Sansa obeyed in an instant, her mind had been hard-wired to obey her Master's commands whether they were real commands or not. She shed his white shirt and slipped on her clothes from the day before, Ros had been right, the violet bra didn't fit her but thankfully the dress was designed in such a way it wasn't necessary. Her feet slipped into the cherry red ballerina flats and she waited for her Master's next order. 

“We're going shopping, Sweetling. You can't stay in that one dress and my old shirts.” Petyr told her while straightening his collar. 

“Master... doesn't have to... buy things for... Sansa.” She stuttered out, eyes cast at the floor, knowing he could do what ever he desired to her.  

Petyr smiled and looked over at her fragile little frame,  _so timid but so strong._

“It's buy things for _me_ not buy things for _Sansa , _and I know I don't have to but I want to.” He flashed her a smile knowing she'd never see it. “I'm not having you staying here looking like a slave.” 

When he'd found Sansa more or less every inch of her had been covered in thick half healed bruises  but after two weeks her face was practically clear,  no one would suspect the horrors of what she'd endured.  Bruises still littered her arms and the leather burns  had yet to heal around her throat, the marks would never completely fade. Knowing there would be questions about her arms Petyr went to his closet in the next room and took out his black leather jacket. When he slipped it around  her he realised just how thin Sansa was,  he'd soon fix that, the leather hung loosely from her body as though she were a six-year-old wearing her father's clothes. 

“There that's better, you'll stay warm this way too.”

Getting her into the car took a little convincing, she'd grown to place some trust in him but the outdoor world still gave her great pause. Words of comfort did little to encourage her and he was reluctant to make it an order, eventually Petyr decided she needed a little help and so took her hand before leading her over to the awaiting car, her hand trembled in his but she was brave enough to sit and let him shut the grey door. 

Petyr drove along the maze of streets and into town, buildings grew taller and the streets grew busy with people; Sansa just gazed out the window and Petyr couldn't decide if it was out of fear for the things around her or amazement of how big the world really was.  _Probably a little of both,_ thought Petyr as he drove. 

“I need you to be brave for me, Sansa. Can you do that?” 

“Yes Master.” She said quietly.

“Sansa, while we are in public I need you to not call me _Master._ Okay?” Baelish asked, his stormy eyes never leaving the road. 

“Yes Master. What would Master like Sansa to call him?” 

Petyr thought for a while and then it came to him as he slowed the car and parked it. Once the engine had been silenced he turned and looked at her with a calm smile. 

“Call me Uncle.” He watched the redhead for a reaction. “Is that alright. Sweetling?” 

“Of course, Master. Sansa will obey.” 

That wasn't what Petyr wanted to hear, she was more than a slave built to obey a man she hardly knew. He decided he'd work more on that later when he wasn't in the middle of trying to clothe her. After a moment Petyr had her out the car and walking down the street with him, her eyes remained glued to the floor as they walked and her body was tense but Sansa was determined to be brave for her new Master.  _New Master is so kind, shouldn't anger him_ she thought as they walked. Sansa had never known such kindness, she'd never known what it was to be outside or have food and clothes to ware. 

“I know you're brave, Sansa.” Petyr started. “You'll feel much better after you have some things of your ow- Sansa?” She wasn't by his side. 

Petyr's green-grey eyes flew round looking for the redhead,  there was a pang of something in his chest,  _is this worry?_ She was gone. He'd lost her. He'd let her wander off. What would Cat say? His head swung around to retrace his steps and there she was only a few feet away,  her eyes locked on something inside one of the stores. 

“See something you like?” He asked kindly once his feet were done carrying him to her side. 

Sansa jumped a little upon hearing the deep tones of his voice, she'd been lost in her own little world for a moment or two, memories of her brother's and sister suddenly filling her mind.  Her Master tilted his head up to the store, a handmade toy store, and couldn't help but grin smugly 

“No Mas-Uncle. Sorry Uncle.” 

“It's alright. But really, which one were you looking at?”

Petyr watched as she raised her hand and pointed towards one of the toys displayed on the counter at the back of the shop.  It was a wolf, grey  sleek and utterly beautiful as well as obviously hand-made, the creatures eyes stood out bold, bright and majestic. Petyr could see why Sansa had locked onto that one above all others.

“Come on, let's go and get you some clothes.” A hand came up and rested on her shoulder guiding Sansa away from shop window and down towards the boutique he knew would  get her everything she needed. “That's more important right now.” 

Sansa followed her Master  just a few steps and into  the boutique that was the subject of the whole outing.  Petyr quickly dealt with the staff, making sure  they didn't spent too much time touching Sansa as they  started to take her measurements; it was clear she wanted to shy away and hide but her Master had asked her to be brave and so she would be. He could see the staff clocking her fading bruises and flashing him looked when they thought he couldn't see them, Petyr had to do something about it and so headed over to the manager. 

“Can I help you, Sir?” Asked the short blonde.

“I can see you've noticed how nervous my niece is,” He sighed to show some emotion and glanced lovingly at Sansa before turning his head back. “I just wanted to ask you and your staff to be patient with her. She's been through a lot and has nothing left.” Petyr flashed a charming smile at the older woman and knew he'd gotten her, she thought he was a kind and just man.  _Oh how gullible people can be._

“Of course, Sir.” Said the older blonde, her crimson lips flashing a smile. “She's being so brave.” 

“Thank you for being so understanding.” _A sob story and a smile, is that really all it takes these days?_

T he staff seemed to back off to a bare minimum after that and the questioning looks ceased, Petyr was pleased to see Sansa relax though it was only a little.  _So brave_ Baelish's mind reminded him. 

“Sweetling, I'll be back in a few minutes. Will you be alright?” He shot her a look that said _you're brave, you'll be fine._ Sansa never saw it though because she never let her eyes meet his. 

Petyr tired to make it sound like something she had choice in but Sansa had been hard wired to just do as commanded and have no thoughts of her own. 

“Yes Uncle.”

_Uncle_ didn't feed his ego quite the same as  _Master_ did but he wasn't going to complain, Petyr knew he shouldn't have been enjoying this traumatized, abused, scared, raped and God only knew what else, child calling him  _Master_ with every single sentence. However, Petyr Baelish was not a good man and so he couldn't silence that bit of his brain that grinned smugly every time he heard it. 

Sansa was braver than she believed, she'd be alright for a few minutes.


	6. Wolves and Mockingbirds

Sansa counted each and every second until her Master returned,  _one... two... three..._ The women around her said things she didn't listen too, _thirty-six... thirty-seven... thirty-eight,_ she thought it was words of encouragement, she'd heard what Petyr told them and Sansa was actually thankful for it.  _One fifty-eight... one fifty-nine... two minutes._ Her new Master didn't yell at her like the old one did , didn't hit her or force her to do things either. _ Four twenty-two... four twenty-three.... four twenty-four.  _ He was good to her and Sansa returned that with the little bit of trust she had left in her heart; the redhead decided he deserved that.  _Five ten... five eleven... five twelve._ From what had happened that morning Sansa knew he wouldn't force her to have sex with him as well which had instantly lifted a weight and given her some sense of happiness; she'd also learnt that her new Master was rather a lot larger than Joffrey and his moaned pants were far gentler on her ears that the blondes harsh words.  _Five eighteen... five nineteen... five twenty..._ that was it, five minutes and twenty seconds was the time it took for him to return to her. The boutique's glass door opened and her Master made his way back over to her with an expensive looking handled paper bag in sleek black gripped in his right hand. The bag had the initials 'HT' on the front in bold white but there was nothing other than that.

“Told you I'd be back.” Petyr grinned as he set the bag down and took a seat again. 

The smell of cigarette smoke drifted from his suit, normally it was undetectable but this was certainly the opposite, though it explained part to the reason he'd left.

“Sir, we've taken her measurements and I have my other staff getting her sizes. Is there anything else I can do for you?” The blonde woman's high ponytail swished as she spoke and her pale skin made her lipstick seem even redder. 

“I think we're quite alright.” Said Petyr. “Thank you.” 

The blonde, whose name he didn't care to find out, left them be so Sansa could look through the clothing brought to her. There was so much of it, so much choice and so many colors. 

“What do you like, Sweetling?”

Was he really giving her a choice over all this? Was he letting her have some control over her life?

“It's all so nice Ma-Uncle.” Sansa prayed he didn't notice her slip up. 

“You can choose whatever you like.” He said again, drilling the fact that she had choice into her head. “You pick it and you can have it.”

Baelish wanted his redhead to have everything her heart desired and more, wanted to see her adorned in fine silk and diamonds.  _How is she doing this to me?_ Petyr always looked out for himself and only himself but Sansa... she made him care. 

Silently Sansa looked through the choices, everything was beautiful and clearly expensive; Joffrey hadn't let her ware anything and yet here was her new Master giving her the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. There was a dress neatly folded on the top that caught her cerulean eyes, it was the color of emeralds and had a high neckline that would hide most of her bruises. The sleeves were three-quarter and when Sansa reached out to touch it she found the fabric thicker than she'd expected; it would be warm and comfortable. Petyr saw her eyeing it and smiled, in seconds he was by her side and had unfolded the dress to press it against her body, the green hue went amazingly with her pale skin and fiery hair. Its a-line cut flattered her figure without showing just how thin she really was and came down to just above her knee as the white dress she wore did.

“Do you like it?” He asked with a tone that genuinely wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes Uncle.” Voice still tiny.

“Then you shall have it. What else do you like?”

That went on for a time and Sansa actually found herself enjoying it, for a while she even forgot about the horrors of her life, something she thought wasn't possible. In the end and after several words of encouragement Sansa found herself with a pile of clothes that she'd chosen herself. They were in a range of colors and though Sansa had subtly questioned if he was sure he wanted her to have all these things Petyr seemed adamant.

They left the store in silence and for the first time in as long as she could remember Sansa felt like a person rather than an object. Sansa couldn't explain the surge of strength she got from him, it was a radiating wave that washed over her every few seconds and made her feel as though the nightmares she called memories had happened to someone else. Her heart grew with more and more strength each time that wave hit her but her mind was not so easily changed, he was her Master. Petyr sat the bags down in the back seat of his Aston Martin DB5, his beloved classic car, and then helped to strap Sansa in. He looked at her for a second or two before reaching into the back seat and pulling the black bag out, setting it in her lap. 

“A gift for being such a brave girl.”

Sansa gazed down at the bag, she'd wondered what was inside it since he'd returned to the shop with it. There was a layer of thin cream tissue paper hiding the gift underneath and Sansa flashed her eyes up just enough to see his lips were still upturned before sending them back to the bag in her lap. 

“Go on." He encouraged.

Sansa couldn't believe he was giving her more, after the huge wardrobe he'd just bought for her and the art supplies Sansa couldn't think of anything else she'd ever want let alone need. The present called her though and cautiously the teenager reached into the bag and pulled free her gift... the wolf. In her hands was the handmade seated timber wolf cub she'd admired a few hours earlier, Sansa's heart clenched, it was the kindest and most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for the young girl. 

“I thought you'd like this little cub.” Petyr smiled, he liked seeing her happy. 

Suddenly it struck him, it all became clear to him as to why he wanted to protect her, _she's like me._ Sansa was strong and a fighter just like him. She's learnt everything she could to please Joffrey, if he taught her how to learn everything about those around her and then use it against them Sansa would be unstoppable. 

“Thank you, Master!” Sansa beamed, she actually beamed, something she didn't know was possible. 

“You're quite welcome.” He told her softly.

Until that very second Petyr had thought that she was shattered and could never find all the pieces but  looking at her with that timber wolf pressed to her chest Baelish realised it, she wasn't shattered she was cracked... and fractures could be repaired. It would take a great deal of time but she seemed to have put a level of trust in him and that was a start. 

“What are you going to call your wolf?” He asked with genuine curiosity.

The redhead thought for a moment before speaking to him softly.

“Sansa doesn't know. Master should choose.”

Petyr grinned at the young woman before him, she probably knew only the names of men who had hurt her and himself. He thought for a time,  _ Patch, Lucky, Wolfy _ were all too common for a stuffed toy and Petyr refused to let anything around Sansa Stark be  _common._ Baelish was silent for a time, he could announce  _Remus_ or _Romulus,_ maybe even _Fenrir_ but she would understand none of those names and so his mind turned its attention towards something more simple; the animal's tail had a red sheen to it and he couldn't help but think of her hair. _That's it._

“How about _Copper?_ ” He asked with a grin.

Sansa was quiet for a moment and then looked back at the timber wolf. 

“Hello Copper.” His girl seemed happy.

“Shall we go home?”

Sansa nodded and Petyr turned his attention to the car, slipping the key into the ignition but just as he went to turn it his cellphone started to ring and chime. Sansa watched quietly while tickling the wolf behind its furry ears, he let out the occasional  _ yes, mmm _ and _okay_ as if to punctuate the brief conversation. Her Master didn't seem angry just annoyed, something that was proven when he let out a long sigh and muttered something about wanting a cigarette under his breath. The afternoon had given way to early evening and the streets grew busier with people going home  but  Sansa refused to be afraid while her Master was beside her, she didn't want to cause him any problems when he'd already gotten someone talking in his ear. Finally Petyr hung up and turned to his redhead with an apologetic smile, not that she saw it.

“I'm sorry, Sweetling. We have to make a pit stop before home.”

Sansa nodded without question and simply cuddled into her new wolf, Copper, with love as he drove along the tarmacked streets. Petyr had clicked on the stereo at one point and rhythmic notes filled the vehicle along with lyrics. 

 

I was walkin' down the street  
When out the corner of my eye  
I saw a pretty little thing approaching me  
She said, "I never seen a man  
Who looked so all alone  
Oh could you use a little company?”

 

She actually rather liked the music, but her favourite thing was the way Petyr drummed his thumbs against the black steering wheel and hummed along without noticing it. There was a real passion for music in his heart and Sansa actually found some comfort in that. 

 

 _You know there ain't no rest for the wicked_  
Money don't grow on trees  
We got bills to pay  
We got mouths to feed  
And ain't nothing in this world for free  
No we can't slow down  
We can't hold back  
Though you know we wish we could  
No there ain't no rest for the wicked  
Until we close our eyes for good.

 

Eventually Petyr stopped the car outside a building marked as  _The Mockingbird_ by a large plum purple sign over an archway that led to a huge main black door. The door was propped open, probably due to the heat of the day, but there was nothing else there to indicate the place was open let alone that there was a business there.  _Does Master own this place?_ Sansa wondered. 

“Wait here, Sansa. I'll be back in a few minutes.” Her Master told her while opening the driver's door and stepping out. 

The teenage girl watched the dark-haired man walk into the building and out of sight from her aqua eyes; Sansa trusted that he'd be back though. She didn't know how long she waited, time wasn’t important, it was more than ten minutes but less than twenty. Her mind wandered as she played with her grey-red wolf, Copper's ears were soft and inviting, eyes bold and shining in the twilight; it was almost poetic. 

Suddenly there was a thud as a tall, beefy man thudded into the car, Sansa screamed and jumped back her eyes grew bold with fright. The man was bald and clearly drunk, Sansa knew what drunk looked like all too well thanks to Joffrey Baratheon. 

“Sorry sexy.” The old man stammered with a hungry smile and a subtle Dorne accent before stumbling off and out of sight. 

Sansa tried to be brave, to stay put and obey her Master's every command, but her body shivered. Fire red hair cascaded around her face as she hunched over trying to hide from the planet, the man from Dorne had torn away all strength she had for the day, fear lived throughout her body strong and powerful again. Fingers turned white as she clung to her toy with desperation, heart pounding in her head like a train clicking on its tracks. She couldn't take it, she wanted,  _needed,_ her Master. Before Sansa knew her feet were moving she'd darted out the car, slamming the door shut behind her, and racing into The Mockingbird in search of her Master, her protector, the one person she had any trust in.

Sansa froze when she saw what was inside, women and men, dressed in revealing outfits, men touching them. Loud music bouncing around the building while people sipped drinks. More importantly her Master was nowhere in sight. She clamped her eyes shut and clung to Copper with a vice like grip, her lungs felt like they were hyperventilating and the room started to spin... until a man started to talk at her side in a friendly voice that had a sarcastic undertone. 

“You must be new.” Sansa opened her eyes but kept the blue orbs firmly locked on the ground. “Love the _little girl_ look.”

The taller man's hand came down to stroke along her neckline for a second and she instantly filched, moving away quickly, her Master had said no one would hurt her again, Sansa believed that... _a_ _nd Master would be angry if anyone else touched Sansa, _her mind added.

“Oh come on, don't be like that.” The man grabbed at her wrist, not painfully just enough to keep her there with him.

At that moment a large door marked _owner_ swung open opposite Sansa and the stranger. 

“Wulfric, stop your whining. We both know what you're like and we both know that if one of my girls _had_ stolen from you you'd have never noticed it was gone. In fact-” Petyr stopped dead upon seeing Sansa, one hand gripping Copper and the other pulling away from the tall man. Baelish's eyes narrowed and darkened at the sight. “Bronn release her _now_! She's not a whore.”

The man,  Bronn, held his hands up in a sign of surrender and flashed Petyr a sarcastic grin.

“Sorry, Littlefinger.” He began. “Didn't know you had a thing for age play. Does she call you _Daddy_ and everything?”

Bronn chucked and startled Sansa into running to Petyr and half hiding behind him.

“Master.”

Wulfric still stood beside Petyr and looked at Sasna with confusion for a moment, Bronn but out laughing. 

“ _Master_ huh? You really do have her trained.” Bronn wandered off out the brothel with a chuckle on his lips and a _bye _ tossed over his shoulder.

“Wulfric please leave my brothel, I have things to attend to. Goodbye.” Petry said dismissively, Wulfric opened his mouth to speak but Petyr flashed him warning eyes and the bald man's mouth closed quickly. “Leave.” Wulfric obeyed. 

Baelish turned back into his office and guided Sansa along with him, closing the door behind them. Sansa prayed that he wasn't angry with her, she couldn't take that. Her legs gave way; she'd disobeyed him and let another man touch her all in one day, yet her knees did not strike the hard black floor beneath her feet, no, instead large hands caught her and carried Sansa to sit in his lap behind his desk. Petyr held her with care and whispered sweet nothings into her ear until she calmed down. 

“Why did you come in here, Sweetling?” He asked softly. “I asked you to wait in the car.” 

“There... there was a man... he-” Sansa cut herself off and reveled in his arms. 

“And you got scared. It's alright, I'm not mad.” Her Master's words were prepossessing with a kindness that only he seemed to be able to show her. 

_Wasn't mad?_ Sansa hadn't expected to hear that, If she'd disobeyed Joffrey Sansa would have been beaten to within an inch of her life. Was she not going to be punished? 

The music was muted inside his large office, just a faint ringing drifting under the door on a steady breeze. There were no windows just solid walls painted in the same deep purple as the sign outside, decorated with heavily stocked bookshelves and a few beautiful works of art; Petyr certainly had taste. 

“Master has other slaves.” Sansa said when she could take the silence no longer. 

“What? No!” Petyr responded with raised eyebrows and a sense of confusion that lasted but a moment. “They work here, it's their job, they're not slaves.” He didn't want to talk about it. “Just forget about it.”

Sansa actually believed him. She wasn't stupid, Sansa knew Petyr was no saint but he was nothing like her old Master; he'd never have a building full of slaves. Her body relaxed but her fingers gripped his tailored shirt, a childish action but one that made her feel safe and Master didn't stop her so Sansa allowed herself some indulgence. Littlefinger raised his eyes at the touch, she'd never touched him willingly and without reservation before, Baelish actually liked it and couldn't help but realise they looked like a father comforting his child after a nightmare. His palms were heated with a burning fire that slipped through the fabric of her dress and warmed her scared little body; Baelish couldn't see it but Sansa's eyes started to shine just a little brighter, the dullness enslavement had caused being forced out a millimetre at a time. As if to end the silence Petyr's office door swung open admitting a thin blonde man to the room, loud music followed behind him until he clicked the door shut. The blonde was dress in tight black jeans and an open sky blue shirt that showed off his muscular chest, Sansa couldn't help but notice that though there were clearly several years between her Master and the other man both shared a well toned physique. 

“What's with the girl?” He asked with his hand still resting on the door handle.

Petyr thought quickly before responding.

“Olyvar this is Alayne, my niece.” 

Olyvar leaned against the wall and crossed his strong arms over his midsection. There was a smile on his face as he rested a booted foot against the wall. 

“Yeah, I don't believe that for a second, Littlefinger. No way in hell that a girl as pretty as  _her_ is related to you.” 

Petyr saw the funny side of that comment and breathed out a laugh that vibrated through Sansa's chest after it was done with his own. 

“That's because it's not true but that's the story that will leave this room. The story that will be told to those who ask about her. And that is the story _you_ -”

“The story that I'll tell and the only story I'll tell if I don't want to die. I get it, you don't have to worry, I'm not in the business of hurting teenagers just because I can. Oh, and I'm _far_ too smart to go against you, Boss.” Olyvar smiled. 

“See Oly, there's the reason I like you.” Petyr looked down to Sansa. “Sweetling, can you say hello to Olyvar for me?” 

“...hello Olyvar.” Her voice was tiny but Baelish was no less proud of her. 

“Good girl.” Petyr praised before removing his arms from her side. “Up.”

Sansa obeyed in an instant, jumping up to her full height beside his large oak desk, Copper held under her chin. Baelish stood from the desk as well and bent down to scribble his signature on the bottom of a piece of paper before straightening up and holding the paper out to Olyvar. The blonde took the hint and walked over to take the white sheet, flashing a smile at Sansa. 

“Give that to Ros once she's done with whoever it is she's fucking. Oh, and if Wulfric Trancy causes any more problems don't call me to fix it, just throw him out.” Petyr instructed while slipping his bespoke suit jacket back on. 

“Alright.” Oly turned to leave but paused halfway and turned back. “Oh I almost forgot, a man called and asked for you earlier. When I asked his name he just said he was the man who _drinks and knows things._ Then he hung up.”

Petyr chortled for a moment and pushed his desk chair back in.

“He's the last person I expected to hear from.” He said absent-mindedly. “Thank you Olyvar. Now, if you'll excuse us, I promised _my niece_ her that we'd go home.”

 

 

 

 

_This is the handmade toy that Petyr gives Sansa (Copper) and it's from Hansa who make some really nice but really expensive toys._

_ _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from Ain't No Rest For The Wicked by Cage The Elephant.


	7. The Area That Lies Between

As soon as Petyr shut the front door of his house upon returning home Sansa fell to her knees with head lowered, she sat on her haunches with pale hands resting in her lap and red locks slipping down around her face. When Petyr turned to face her, keys still in hand, his eyebrows flew up and for a moment his ego grinned, he liked the Stark girl on her knees for him; in a heartbeat the memory of her mouth around him came flooding back. His happy thoughts died painfully a second later when his Sweetling spoke. 

“Sansa should be punished for disobeying Master. Sansa deserves to be hit. Shouldn't have left the car.” 

Petyr wasn't having that, she was stronger than that and he wouldn't let Joffrey continue to force her into thinking otherwise. Baelish crouched down to eye level, though she never looked up, and when words fell from her lips they were dominant and certain. 

“Sweetling, there will be no punishments, there's no need for that. You got scared, you didn't kill a king.” His stormy eyes didn't fail to catch the puzzlement that flashed across her features. “Now, it's been hot outside so I thought you'd like a shower. Would you like help or can you manage? Your choice.”

Sansa thanked any deity that would listen,  _he won't hit_ _ Sansa _ _, Master said_ _ Sansa _ _ won't be punished.  _ Her worry eased and another spark of light returned to her eyes. Petyr's hand gently grazed down her face and for the first time in as long as she could remember she didn't mind being touched. 

“Sansa can do it, Master. Sansa won't burden her Master.” The teenagers voice, surprisingly, didn't shake. 

“You're never going to be a burden. Now, go and take your shower. If you need me just call.” 

Sansa wasted no time in doing as her Master wished, leaving him alone to think about holding her again. 

Soon enough she was naked and in the shower that attached to her room, warm water cascaded over her beaten and bruised body like a magical waterfall that Sansa couldn't get enough off. To her something as simple as a shower was pure heaven. Chained to Joffrey's bed Sansa had come to think that the world was no bigger than his room, that the outside world was just a fantasy her mind had made up to make her feel better, almost like that allegory of the cave. Now she knew the truth. Sansa wasn't stupid, she knew Petyr wasn't  _good_ but he wasn't evil either; a grey area she decided as she bathed her skin. He'd not yelled or struck her since taking ownership of her and the world had started to seem like there were no men like that left. Bruises healed slowly, her skin becoming milky white again rather than purple, yellow and black. However, with the healing of her skin she found that scars became more pronounced, long faint lines littered her back while tiny raised bumps decorated her upper thighs and buttocks;  _will they fade away too?_ Sansa didn't know. So many years had passed since the girl had seen her red hair,  _I look like Mother again._

When she  was finished Sansa shut off the water and towel dried before venturing back into her bedroom, it was so strange to have a room just for her, she stopped dead upon seeing her Master in the middle of the room with something in his hands. When he took a step towards her and extended his arms, skin on display now he'd rolled his sleeves up, strange pattens littered one arm that Joffrey hadn’t had. 

“They're called tattoos.” He said and Sansa snapped back from her staring somewhat embarrassed and worried he'd punish her and nothing else was said on the subject. 

It was then that Sansa realised he was offering her one of his old shirts that she'd taken to sleeping in; this one was a dark orange that looked as though it had never been worn and so had probably been a gift. Sansa felt green-grey eyes on her as she neatly folded her wet white towel and slipped on the shirt, buttoning it up almost all the way. Petyr had indeed been watching her, Sansa's beauty wasn't lost on him.  _ She looks like Catelyn _ he thought as his eyes ghosted over her form,  _yet more beautiful than she ever was._ Sansa chose that moment to speak, voice a cross between timid and curious.

“...Has... Sansa done something... wrong, Master?” 

“No, Sweetling.” He told her quickly and honestly. “... But I'm going to.” He confessed. “I told you I wasn't a good man.” 

Before Sansa could take a breath let alone move his hands were holding her pale cheeks and his lips pressed against her own. Something not _un_ pleasant shot through her body, head to toe and then he stepped away as though nothing had ever happened; she was confused a little dazed and the taste of mint lingered on her tongue.

“Dinner will be ready in an hour.” Was all he said before leaving her alone in the lapis painted bedroom

The redhead's mind was firmly locked on what had just transpired, she'd never been kissed like that before, Joffrey had enjoyed pushing his tongue, flavoured in junk food, into her mouth until she couldn't breath but the way her new Master had kissed her... it was  _so_ different. Her Master's kiss had been gentle and caring, no force just a gentle pressure,  and after a moment of thought and debate... Sansa decided she'd liked it, there was a voice in the back of her head telling her to run while she had that chance, that Petyr Baelish was dangerous and would use her in the same way as Joffrey but she ignored it.  He said she was brave and Sansa would prove that not only to him but herself. 

“Master is good to Sansa.” She told herself. 

Damp red hair swished as she turned to the night table that held her writing and art supplies, Sansa didn't want her Master to think she was hiding from him after what had just happened. With the items in her arms Sansa walked down the stairs and into the  vestibule , a large room painted in rich purple, the color reminded Sansa of his club, the floor was a shined black marble and though it was a large ovular room the colors somehow made it cosy. The houses staircase curled around the room so anyone who descended them would find themselves face to face with the front door, it also had a frosted glass railing with little cut outs to make it look as though there were small birds in flight up it, so far that was Sansa's favourite feature of Petyr's home. In the centre of the room stood a round oak table  topped with a black stature of a bird, she remembered Master telling her it was a mockingbird; _like that place Sansa was at earlier, that was a mockingbird too._ To her left was an archway that led off to his study, library, basement and a few other rooms she'd not dared ventured to yet, while the one on her right took her to the living room and open kitchen. Once inside she walked around his black couches and sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor in front of the patio doors gazing out at the garden that overlooked the rocky coast of Kings Landing. It was only then that she noticed the music filling the air, rock with an air of country to it.

 

 _You made a promise, babe_  
To love me 'til the end  
And you can't back out now  
Just 'cause I'm one of them  
  
Cain split the atom  
And he laid it in my bed  
I changed the sheets  
And built a fire there instead

 

Petyr watched from the kitchen as she started to work on her writing, he'd always liked the way his open planned kitchen let him look straight though the living room and out the patio doors, it was almost tranquil. The man with greying hair pulled his eyes away for a time so he could finish preparing their dinner, he worked quickly while humming along with the music.

 

 _Red revelations_  
Chapters one until the end  
Who's gonna save me now  
Looks like I'm one of them.

 

Soon enough the salmon was in to roast and he had a few minuets spare, he washed his hands and then went to his girl.

“Dinner will take a little while longer.” He told her from above, quietly reading her sentences; _her handwriting is improving._ “It occurs to me that though we went outside today you spent most of that in the store or my car.”

Sansa watched as her Master opened the patio doors and then turned back holding a hand out to her, she took it instantly and let him lead her outside. Blades of soft grass cuddled her bare feet once out into the night, a gentle padding that she'd never known before, the grass was cold but not uninviting and Sansa felt a faint smile ghost over her lips. 

It was one of those nights, the nights where the wind moved effortlessly through the streets and the moon hung high in the sky, blessing the evening with rich moonlight. A night that gave peace as a reward for the hectic rush of the day. A night that seemed to coat everything in innocence and tranquillity... seemed to at least. The darkness wasn't when evil came out to play, evil never slept, daylight had fooled people into believing it was safe, that it posed no threat. Of course, that wasn't true. None of that was important now though.

The night air was cooler than he'd expected and Petyr couldn't help but notice the way her hair shined in the supernatural moonlight, still a little damp. Their ears heard waves crashing against the cliffs not far from his home, an almost therapeutic sound and Baelish was suddenly reminded of why he'd purchased the house that overlooked Kings Landing's coast. Sansa's mind was focused on the beauty of the night but his focus was on the beauty of her. 

“You can come out here whenever you like, Sansa.” He flashed a glance up her thighs. “Just don't get too close to the cliff edge.” She'd have to walk a good five or more minutes to reach the edge but Petyr felt like he needed to warn her anyway. “I don't want you to fall or hurt yourself.” 

“Thank you, Master!”

Sansa smiled and for a second he thought she may hug him. _Don't be stupid Petyr, _he silently chastised himself, _she's just happy to have some freedom._

“I also apologise if I upset you earlier when I kissed you. That was not my intent.”

Silence hung in the air for a short time while Sansa gazed at the grass and then with a little voice set to the backdrop of the ocean she spoke. 

“Sansa was not upset, Master. Sansa... liked it.” 

“Good.”

Good was all he could say, his brain stopped functioning which was highly unusual for Petyr Baelish. Everything Petyr did was with the mind, but his girl, this beautiful girl seemed to be playing with his heart. 

 

XXXX

 

_ He had to be quick, had to make sure he was in and out before the police showed up to do a search for more of Joffrey Baratheon's unlicensed guns. The night was perfectly dark and no one would see him, normally Ramsay Bolton would just torture and kill anyone who got in his way but he didn't have time on this night. The front door had been unlocked, 'Joffrey is such a fucking moron' the pale man thought as he stepped inside the garish house. The lights were off and everything seemed far too clean for it to have been Joffrey's bachelor pad; for a moment Ramsay thought he was in the wrong house.  _

_ Everything was silent as he walked up the stairs in search of his prize, of what he was owed. However, the silence fell dead with the birth of a thud, the noise was almost as if someone was trying to muffle it and it didn't take long to realise whoever it was had climbed out onto the roof. Ramsay raced back down the stairs and round to the garage just in time to hear a car race away. Someone had been there, someone who wasn't Joffrey or the Lannisters. His prize, where was his prize? Ramsay searched the whole house but nothing, she wasn't in the bedroom where the whore was normally kept, she was just gone. It seemed one of Joffrey's so-called friends had taken it upon themselves to take his plaything for their own. Ramsay wouldn't allow that, he'd won her fair and square from that blonde brat. She was his.  _

Ramsay sat bolt upright in his bed, sweat clung to his naked form as his toned chest rose and fell. Anger surged through his body in tsunami like waves, his eyes were dark.

“I will find you, you little bitch.”

Ramsay Bolton always got what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics used are One Of Them by Jace Everett. 
> 
> I know that Petyr nor Aidan Gillen have tattoos but I got it into my head that it would be really cool for him to have a full sleeve with designs that held meaning to him, almost like a map of his rise to power. I also have a little bit of an end game with it as well.


	8. The Warmth That's Felt From Another

The day finally came where Petyr could avoid work no longer and had no choice but to leave Sansa at his house while he returned to his day job; CFO of Lion and Stag Enterprises. Sansa hadn't wanted her Master to leave her alone but she knew he had to work, he'd left her alone before but never for so long. Sansa could do it though, she'd be brave... for him. 

That was how Baelish found himself going through paperwork in search of all the operational risks that could come back to bite Lion and Stag in the ass. No one could deny that Petyr was good at his job, whether that be as CFO, Littlefinger the brothel owner or Cleaner to the homicidal. Petyr was lost in thought about the company when his office door opened without so much as a quiet knock and Varys stepped inside. The bald man was Lion and Stag's CHRO or Chief Human Resources Officer, he was responsible for all aspects of human resource management and industrial relations policies, practices and operations for Lion & Stag Enterprises. However, just like Petyr, Varys had another job; he ferried secrets and rumours, in the form of his  _Little Birds,_ around the city and other companies to build cover stories about those the Lannister's had killed; their own personal Master of Whispers. Other than that he was probably the closest thing Petyr had to a friend, after Sansa, Olyvar and even Ros of course. Not that Petyr wanted or needed friends. Varys could get information out of just about anyone except Petyr, that was probably the reason they acted friendly towards one another. Petyr dealt with the physical evidence while Varys handled the theories and consequences. 

“Nice to see you're back, Baelish. I need you to approve this HR expense for me.” Seconds later Varys had set a document down on Petyr's desk. 

Petyr read it over quickly and signed before handing it back, it wasn't anything that outlandish and HR did actuality need it. 

“You came all the way to my office for this? Doubtful, why are you really here Varys?” Petyr asked, his eyes never leaving his work. 

Varys grinned smugly without actually smiling. 

“What kept you away from the battlefield so long? We were beginning to worry about you.”

“You don't worry about anyone but yourself, you're like me in that respect.” The dark-haired man mused aloud before looking up to Varys. “And if you must know, my niece came to stay with me.” He lied. 

“Ah, that explains why my Little Birds saw you with a girl a few days ago.” He mused to himself looking off out the window. “But that really kept you away for two weeks solid? One would almost think you cared, Petyr.”

Petyr leaned back in his chair and joined Varys looking out the window, the two often had whole conversations without looking at one another. 

“Don't tell anyone my secret.” The two laughed at the joke as they watched the outside world, a few moment passed by like that until the bald man in an Armani suit spoke again. 

“So what's her name?”

“Alayne.” Petyr responded smoothly and without a hint of dishonesty. 

It may have sounded like he was being truthful but Varys lived his life with the motto; _assume Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish is lying until proven otherwise. _It had served him well so far.

“Pretty-”

Whatever Varys was to say next found itself interrupted by Gwendolyn's voice chiming through the intercom box on the left of his desk, Gwendolyn was a rather competent woman who Petyr usually couldn't fault; if anything it was her obsession with Jaime Lannister that annoyed him the most about her she really couldn't see that Jaime only had eyes for his sister. 

“ _Mister Baelish, I'm sorry to interrupt but Mister Lannister wants to see you.” _

Most people would have asked which  _ Mister Lannister,  _ there were at least six of them in the building after all but Petyr knew it could only be Tywin, Ja im e and the others never spoke to him unless in a meeting; in fact thinking about it only Tyrion had ever spoken to him without being forced to do so. Varys picked up on this as well and let his mouth twitch with a sarcastic smile. 

“I'll pray for you shall I?”

Petyr stood from his desk and slipped on his coal suit jacket from the back of his chair before responding. 

“Varys, I don't think the Gods, old or new, care. Now get out of my office.”

The bald man did as asked and walked off out the office with Petyr following behind him, once out Varys went off to the left,  presumably back to his own office while Baelish turned right and headed to the other side of the buildings top floor where Tywin Lannister's domain was. He nodded a  _hello_ to Hannah, Tywin's latest assistant before knocking on the door and going in. 

T he office was over the top in size and scarcely decorated save for the Lion sculptures and  occasional pot plant. Three walls were painted in a gold color that Petyr thought was a little over the top while the fourth, behind Tywin's desk was a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the financial district. Baelish had always preferred the view from his own office, he could see the ocean while the Lannister patriarch could just see grey buildings. 

“You asked to see me.” Said Petyr approaching the desk where Tywin was sat. 

“Yes.” The man answered plainly. “But not in your CFO capacity.”

“Sorry, my other one is brothel _owner_ not brothel _worker._ ” Petyr chuckled while Tywin let out an unimpressed and nasal noise. 

“Don't piss me off, Baelish.” The elder man warned but it did nothing to remove the smug grin on Petyr's lips. “Truthfully I don't like you. I never have but you've made yourself quite invaluable, so I let you stay.”

“What can I say? It's nice to been needed.” Another smug grin.

“Anyway.” Twyin said dismissively. “You have contacts high up with the police-”

“And you need me to talk to them about getting Joffrey out because the few cops who aren't bent are watching you like a hawk.” Petyr finished for him

“Indeed.”

“Leave it with me.”

Petyr had every intention of getting Joffrey Baratheon out, he could probably get it down to a warning and some community service, surprising Joffrey hadn't had any major dealings with law enforcement before. Getting him out would take time but he could do it, and once that blonde bastard was out he'd bided his time to let Joffrey think he was king of the world again and then Petyr would destroy him for what he'd done to Sansa.  _ And what better way to get revenge on Cersei than to take her darling boy just like she took Cat's children?  _

“That child is a spoilt brat, but he is a Lannister.”

“Don't we all know it.” Baelish mumbled to himself.

“Let's not start those rumours again.”

“Yes, but wouldn't it be nice if they were just rumours? He has Jaime's eyes after all-”

“Enough!” Tywin glared at the younger man and couldn't decided if he was angry with Petyr for bringing the subject up or with the twins for causing this mess in the first place, _probably both._ “Just see to getting  Joffrey out.” 

“Of course.”

 

XXXX

 

Night had fallen and the day was coming to an end but the only difference Petyr could see was that he'd moved from his office at Lion and Stag Enterprises to his home office, work had backed up with him having been away for so long. He'd thankfully gotten through most of it by ten o'clock though there was still a stack of paperwork left;  _I'll do it tomorrow_ he decided. The dark-haired man had intended to go and find Sansa after that but his phone rang and that was how he found himself talking to Tyrion Lannister a total of twenty minutes later. 

Sansa sat out in the hall just beside his office door that was open a crack,  Copper was in her arms and she waited patiently for his call to finish. The redhead had donned one of the more simple dresses he had gotten for her, this one was a pale lilac and came down to just above her knees in the form of a pleated skirt, it had  embroidered lace from neckline to waist and Sansa looked divine in it, or so her Master said. Flame red hair draped around her face as she waited and Sansa absent-mindedly tucked it behind her ear. 

“... I really wasn't expecting to hear from you.” She heard her Master say into the telephone. “I thought Tyrion Lannister had run off to Dorne to hide and wasn't coming back.” There was a pause while the other person said something and then Petyr started to laugh. “Well, Oberyn Martell would say that. But are you certain you want to come back? I mean, Cersei still has you on her kill list.” There was another pause, this time shorter than the last. “Very well, we'll see how everything blows up when you get here. You Lannisters always making things hard for me.” 

The conversation went on for a few moments more before they said their goodbyes and Petyr set his phone down. 

“Come on in, Sweetling. Don't just sit in the doorway.” 

Sansa had been caught and she felt a spark of fear in the back of her head saying  _he's really going to hit you this time,_ but the redhead chose to ignore it and went into his office where she came face to face with her Master. All the hours he'd been hard at work and yet his hair and suit were still as immaculate as when he'd left the house that morning. 

“Sansa wasn't listening, Master.” She told him quickly, Copper hanging loosely from her right hand.

“Yes you were... but not intentionally.” Petyr sighed and added absent-mindedly. “The things I do for that little lion.”

Suddenly Sansa let out a whimper and pressed Copper to her chest, Baelish's head shot up to look at her. 

“What's wrong?” He asked with genuine concern. “Come here.”

The girl obeyed and once she was close enough let her Master pull her onto his lap just like she had been at The Mockingbird. His ego smiled at having such a beautiful girl perched on his knee. 

“Come on, tell your Master what's wrong.”

Hesitantly Sansa began to speak in a stutter. 

“Don't... like... lions.” She took a breath to steady herself. “Last Master said... Sansa would be fed... to them.” 

Petyr sighed, just when he thought she was making such progress he uttered the word _lion_ and it all came tumbling down. He held her tight. 

“There's nothing for you to worry about, Sweetling.” He began in a soothing tone. “And besides you've got Copper to protect you... and me.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise.” It was a vow. “Which is saying something for me, I'm hardly ever truthful. You're the exception.”

Master and pet sat quietly for a time, his warmth acting as a comfort to her. Petyr's mind couldn't help but wander though, his thoughts filled with memories of Tyrion Lannister and what had happened,  _she should know_ his mind told him but  Baelish had no idea how she'd react.  _Better to tell her now that destroy her faith in you later._ He had to tell her, had to. 

“Sansa,” He sighed. “I'm going to tell you something and you're not going to like it. Cry if you need to, I'm here okay?” 

“Yes Master.” Sansa answered cautiously and Petyr took a breath before telling his tale. 

“Tywin Lannister, your old Master's grandfather, not only runs Lion and Stag Enterprises but a highly illegal criminal empire; weapons, drugs, human trafficking. Many years ago Lion and Stag was two separate companies; Lannister Incorporated and Baratheon Limited, the two merged when Tywin married his daughter Cersei off to Robert Baratheon. They argued about the name for weeks until the decided on Lion and Stag, it came from the paper headers of each company. Anyway, after a while Robert became suspicious of Tywin and what he was doing, Robert went to your father, Eddard Stark, for help. As a police detective he was the best option, Ned, Robert and eventually Tyrion Lannister started to build a case against Tywin in secret, not even the police knew Ned was gathering information because Tywin has most of them in his back pocket. Because the girls he was bringing in had started to mess with my brothel I helped them too. Somehow Cersei found out and before she even thought to tell her father she had all of them killed and the evidence destroyed, Robert was first his death made to look like a hunting accident. Next was your family after that I realised what she was doing and managed to get Tyrion sent off to Dorne. I was the only one she didn't know about, I always hide my involvement in everything. If I'd known earlier... Sansa there was nothing I could do, it happened so fast.” He needed her to know that. “Afterwards I barely got Tyrion out and with the fire no I didn't know you were missing, no one did.”

He wasn't going to tell her of the fire, wouldn't tell her that after her family had been murdered they'd piled the bodied together and burnt them and her home to the ground.  Sansa was crying softly to herself and Petyr pulled her to his chest and nestled the wolf toy under her chin so she'd have something to cry into. 

“But I promise you now, I _will destroy_ them. For you. For your Mother. I _will_ protect you.” 

Sansa sniffled before managing to voice words. 

“Master, is... too good to... Sansa.” 

“No, Sweetling.” He rested his head against her shoulder. “I'm not good enough.” 


	9. The Power Of A Touch

The day had finally come for Joffrey Baratheon to return to Lion and Stag Enterprises and all Petyr wanted to do was slit the blonde bastard's throat the second he stepped off the elevator; he wanted Joffrey to suffer like Sansa had and he wanted Cersei to feel the pain of losing a child just like Catelyn. Petyr watched from the sidelines as his mother and the lower staff fussed over him and he knew that the other staff were only doing it because they feared Cersei's wrath. He spotted Varys in his peripheral vision approach him from his own office and come to a stop beside him. 

“The prodigal son returns to the pit of chaos.” He said as he leaned against Petry's office door. 

“Chaos isn't a pit, chaos is a ladder. Only the ladder is real. The climb is all there is.”

“That face, I know that face. You're plotting something.” Varys accused with a sideways glance.

“You should know me by now; I'm always plotting something.” Petyr's trademark smirk coated his face. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to.” With that Petyr vanished back into his office. 

Petyr pushed thoughts of the golden lions from his mind while he worked, he just wanted some peace and that was what he did for a good three hours, he didn't even get up for coffee; Petyr just worked away quietly until he couldn't bear it any longer. His mind nagged at him and eventually Baelish gave up and called Sansa, only he had the number to that phone and she answered on the second ring with a polite  _hello Master._ Petyr felt his ego grin at the title. 

“Hello, Sweetling. I just wanted to make sure you're alright." Petyr tried to keep his tone light.

“Sansa is fine, Master.” He could hear her smiling through the phone. “Sansa learnt a new word, Master.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” He was genuinely curious, Sansa was thankful for that. 

“Am... ambivalence.” She answered.

“Can you put it into a sentence for me?”

Petyr worried for moment that he sounded like a teacher but quickly brushed it aside  when his redhead started to respond. 

“... Sansa had ambivalence about Master at first...” There was silence for a moment. “... Sansa didn't need to worry though, Master is kind and good.” 

No one had ever had so much faith in Petyr Baelish and if he was being a hundred percent honest it shocked him for a split second.  This girl just kept on surprising him, and Petyr hadn't been surprised in so very long.

“I'm glad to hear it, and well done, Sweetling.” He heard her smile again. “I'm going to bring take out for dinner. I can't...” Petyr paused for a moment as his office door was unceremoniously thrown open and the incestuous moron swaggered into the room. Baelish continued. “... be bothered to cook.”

“Okay, Master.”

“I have to go, Sweetling. I'll see you later.” Petyr listened to her _bye Master _ before hanging up and turning his attention to Joffrey. “Can I help you?” 

“I want my things back.” The brat announced flatly as if Petyr had stolen everything he owned. 

_What?_ Baelish thought.  _No thank you for moving a dead prostitute out of your bed? Of course not, you don't have enough brain power for that._

“I'll bring everything over tomorrow night.”  Petyr responded just as flatly turning his attention back to his computer monitor. 

“No, you'll do it today, I want my things.” His face erupted with a pathetic smirk. “Dinner with your _Sweetling _ will have to wait.”

“Fine.” Petyr tried to sound as though he couldn't care less. “And she's my niece, her name is Alayne.” 

“ _You_ have a niece?”

“I do.” The answer was smooth and unrehearsed. 

“Whatever.” Joffrey sneered. “Just get me my stuff. At least you managed to get that, didn't bring me my play thing though did you?”

Petyr wanted to launch over his black desk and throttle the boy to death but he restrained himself.  _Don't let them know what's in your mind._

“She was dead when I got there, I'm good but I can't bring back the dead.”

“I think dead whore's are best left where they are. I can get a new one.”

Seconds later the blonde stormed out the room just as abruptly as he'd entered leaving Gwendolyn to close Petyr's office door behind him.  _Finally some peace._

 

XXXX

 

Petyr got home a lot later than he'd intended  however it was with Chinese take out in hand, so he counted it as a win.  Despite the light he'd just switched on in the vestibule his home was dark. 

“Sansa?” He called but there was no reply.

Petyr set the heavenly food scented bag down on his glass coffee table and then looked around the house but she was nowhere to be seen. 

“Sansa?”

He called again but still no answer came, she wasn't in the library or her bedroom, not even his study where he'd often found her curled up on late nights. Finally, just as worry started to take up his mind Petyr noticed the patio doors, they were ajar. The dark-haired man stepped out into the night and walked the five minute trip to the cliff edge where he found Sansa sat looking out over the sea, her stuffed wolf by her side and her feet dangling over the edge into oblivion. She was wearing the green dress he had bought her what seemed like forever ago and he couldn't help but notice just how well it fit her, emeralds draped over milk white skin. The moonlight shone its silver rays down on her and Sansa was easily the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, a goddess; Frigg, Amaterasu, Hera, Idunn, Kisshōten, Athena, Isis, all of them rolled into one. An celestial deity and he was the demon to her angel. 

“Hello Sweetling.” He greeted, Sansa jumped in surprise but quickly fell to ease again and turned, it was then he saw the art book in her hands. “That's beautiful” 

The redhead carefully pulled the page free of her art book and held it up to him, Petyr dropped to sit beside her on the cliff edge before taking the offered paper. Waves crashed softly far below them, a symphony to their ears. Stormy eyes stared down at the page, the image was amazing, so well drawn and with great detail. It was a landscape of the far off cliffs as they curved out of sight and the silver moon hanging in the sky; despite the lack of color Petyr could see the depth and the gorgeous rays of the moon. 

“Sansa drew it for Master.” She didn't look at him.

“Thank you, Sweetling. I love it.” He paused for a moment to take another look at the drawing. “I'm sorry that I'm late.” 

He'd come by at lunch to pick up Joffrey's crap and make her lunch, but then there had been one thing after another, being away for so long had certainly increased his work load. 

“I brought dinner though, shall we go inside and eat? I don't want you getting cold.”

“Yes Master.”

Sansa wasted no time gathering up her things, gathering them all into one arm before letting Petyr take her hand and guide his girl into the house. With a single gesture Petyr had his girl sitting on the couch while he fetched plates, chopsticks and a fork for her. 

“I may have gone a little over the top.” Sansa watched her kind Master as he took several boxes out of the bag and set them all out on the coffee table almost as though it were some kind of indoor picnic. “I didn't know what you liked so I just sort of got everything. Help yourself, Sweetling. There's rice, shredded beef, squid.” To be honest there was too much to list. “Tuck in.” 

While Sansa helped herself cautiously to the food Petyr picked up his rarely used television remote and started to flick through the plethora of channels. Sansa's voice pulled the dark-haired man out of his channel surfing world. 

“What's Green Lantern, Master?”

“A movie that should never have been made.” He answered quickly and without looking up. “Shall I look to see if there is anything about wolves, like Copper?”

Sansa nodded happily and Petyr soon found a documentary dedicated to her beloved wolves. Petyr couldn't help but think about how domestic they looked together sat in front of the television mounted to his wall above the fireplace,  _just like a normal couple._ There was nothing normal about the two of them though. After a time Master noticed his girl watching him out the corner of her eye, or more specifically his hands and what was in them. 

“They're called chopsticks. You use them to eat.”

With a smile Petyr set his plate down and guided the thin pieces of wood into her hands, in a few short instructions Sansa held the chopsticks softly in her hand and picked up a piece of chicken... then promptly dropped it back onto her plate. Petyr laughed. They tried a few more times but she always dropped the meat shortly before getting it close enough to consume. Sansa pouted, eyes cast down onto the plate. It was only then that Petyr realised just how close he'd gotten to the stunning redhead.  Before his mind knew what his hands were doing Petyr had taken  the plate and chopsticks from her soft hands and set them down on the table, less than a second later his palms were pressed to her cheeks and Petyr's lips were on her own. She tasted sweet, that was his first thought before going back in for another kiss, her taste was almost intoxicating and he just couldn't help himself. Petyr pushed her down softly against the couch his weight shifting to cover hers while he knocked her knees apart. That was when it all fell apart, Sansa's breathing quickened in fear and her eyes clamped shut with horror, she was hyperventilating,  air moved rapidly in and out of her lungs almost like inhaling fire. Suddenly Petyr's mind snapped back to him and he jumped back like a man being electrocuted. 

“I'm sorry. Sansa, I'm sorry. I won't hurt you, I won't.” 

Her Master slipped off the couch and crouched down beside her, eyes still shut as she lay on the couch.

“Sansa's sorry Master. Sansa will be quiet and still.” Her voice shook. 

“What?” He was shocked, Petyr was actually shocked. “No. Sansa I promised you that no one would ever hurt you again, and that includes me.” He sighed. “It's just you're so beautiful... but that's no excuse.” 

“Sansa... wants to please Master.” She stuttered.

“No, Sweetling. That's not how it works. You're more than something to fuck.” The two sat quietly for a time that could have been anywhere from five minutes to an hour, Petyr just stroking her soft red hair gently. When he finally spoke breaking the silence it was as though it was the only sound in the room. “Come on, bedtime for you I think. You'll feel better after some sleep.”

Silently Sansa allowed her Master to fill his arms with her and carry his girl up the stairs and into the small bedroom he'd long ago dubbed  _ Sansa's room,  _ once inside he set her down and passed the young girl the shirt of his that she'd been sleeping in. Quietly she took the folded black fabric and put it on in place of her dress. Petyr knew that after what had just happened he shouldn't be in the room with her... but he wasn't a good man and so he let himself watch subtly.  He helped her with the bottom button that she couldn't quite get to shut and then guided the girl into bed for some  much  needed sleep. 

“I want you to try sleeping all night in the bed tonight, okay Sweetling?” Sansa nodded, she'd obey his request rather than crawling under the bed again. “You know your Master's sorry right?” 

“Yes Master.” The redhead muttered.

“Don't just _yes Master_ me because you think it's what I want to hear. You _know_ I didn't mean to hurt you right?”

Petyr Baelish cared very little for what people thought of him, as long as he got what he wanted Petyr didn't much care, Sansa was different; for some reason he cared about what she thought of him. 

“Sansa knows, Master. Master is kind... is good.” She answered a little more firmly. 

“You're the only one who thinks that, Sweetling.”

Petyr turned to flick off the light and leave his girl in peace but that never came to fruition  as the angelic voice of Sansa Stark filled the room once more. 

“Would... would Master stay with Sansa?” She sat cross-legged in the bed with her hands around Copper in her lap and her eyes on her feet. “Just until Sansa falls asleep?” 

How could he possibly say  _no_ to that? However, he couldn't quite believe that after what had happened downstairs on his couch and what that kiss had forced her to remember, that she'd want him with her. Still he couldn't refuse those blue eyes, even though they never met his green-grey ones. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked and Sansa nodded. “Then of course, Sweetling. I'll stay with you.” 

Petyr tugged of his black pants and tossed them onto the light wood set of draws by the window before doing the same with his shirt and climbing onto the bed beside his darling Sansa. The girl lay down on her side with Copper pulled to her chest and Petyr just couldn't resist, he had to touch her. A strong arm slipped around her shirt clad waist. 

_She truly does make me different._


	10. Pleasure Will Burn Out The Pain

Almost two months had passed since Sansa asked him to stay with her until she fell asleep and Petyr felt like he'd aged ten years in that short time, not because of Sansa but because of Joffrey. It seemed the small minded twit still blamed him for the so-called suicide of his slave,  _ imagine how much worse it would get if he knew Sansa was alive.  _ Petyr sat in one of The Mockingbird's private rooms watching the audition for a new girl, Olyvar was to his left and Ros was standing in as the girl's client. The new olive skinned woman made way to much noise and Littlefinger felt a headache coming on.

“No,  no, no, no. Is that what they teach you in the North? And Ros, you should know better. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?” Anything Littlefinger intended to say next was interrupted by a knock at the door, he sighed. 

With a quick glance he sent Olyvar to answer the door. Oly pulled the door open with an expectant look on his face to find Jeremy, one of the favoured men at The Mockingbird along with Mads of course. The spiky haired brunette muttered something before the door was closed and the blonde returned to his seat beside Littlefinger. 

“Boss, only half of the bar stock has shown up _again.”_

Petyr sighed. 

“Fantastic. I've had just about enough of this shit. We're using a different fucking company.”

With that the club owner vanished out the door in the direction Jeremy had left in, leaving Ros and Olyvar alone with the new recruit, Oly thought her name Melody but he couldn't be sure; to him her name was unimportant. 

“Get yourself off.” Said Ros as she wrapped her naked form in a white silk robe and sat where her boss had been not thirty seconds ago.

The girl, Melody, obeyed but the blonde and redhead seemed to pay little to no attention instead they started their own conversation.

“Have you noticed anything different about the boss? You know, since that girl showed up?” Oly asked.

“Oh yeah.” Ros began. “You actually got to meet her, what's she like?” There was a smile on her red lips and the blonde shrugged.

“Like a scared teenage bunny rabbit who likes to let Baelish be her  _Daddy._ ” 

“Really?” The woman's smile grew along with Melody's moans.

“He certainly has an effect on redheads doesn’t he? You, Alayne and Lysa Arryn keeps throwing yourselves at him.” Oly wore a smile of pure smugness. 

“Lysa Arryn will throw herself at anything with money and a cock.” Ros bit out dismissively.

“Littlefinger is her main target though, she's like a Baelish seeking missile.”

“Guess so, anyway, whose this Alayne person?” Ros glanced up at Melody who seemed pretty close to her climax. “I keep hearing tell of her.” 

“Oh that's Daddy's little girl. The sexy teenage redhead's name.”

“Alayne huh? _Cute_.” 

“Have the two of you had a deep and meaningful conversation about Alayne or shall I leave you alone a little longer?”

Olyvar and Ros jumped and spun around to find Littlefinger had silently re-entered the room and was stood waiting for an answer with a raised eyebrow. 

“No, boss. I think were done.” Said Oly with a gulp. 

“Good.”

It was then that Melody decided to cum, filling the room with a loud scream, _really sounds ridiculous._

 

XXXX

 

Once everything was wrapped up at his brothel, nightclub to the police, Petyr was forced to head over to Lion and Stag for the Havisham Construction finance report, it had to be faxed and he'd forgotten the night before; Petyr didn't often forget things but it did happen on occasion. The Havisham report had been finished on his home office desk days before and had just sat there ever since.  With a _Gwendolyn fax this for me_ it was done and Petyr could relax again.  The report hadn't been the only object filling his hands though and so he went into his office to find it the perfect spot for it. At first he'd thought about putting it on the small  black coffee table by his full length window but upon seeing just how much sun that little table was exposed to Petyr decided it wasn't the place for Sansa's now framed drawing. 

“The desk it is then.” He mused aloud.

Petyr hadn't ever really been sentimental but he wanted Sansa's gift close by  and it looked stunning  there where he could see it each and every time he looked up from paperwork.  The frame was the same color as her eyes  and it somewhat stood out against his black office but without being lurid; anyone who saw it there would think he'd let a weakness show but that would only work in his favour. Petyr ran a hand through his perfectly combed and greying hair before the office door clicked open and Gwendolyn popped her head in, blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. 

“I've sent it over sir, would you like to keep the Master copy or shall I file it?”

Baelish turned to face his  assistant with a smile that didn't reach his eyes before speaking. 

“File it, thank you Gwendolyn. I'll be working from home for the rest of the day so once you've filed it and you're finished doing whatever it was I interrupted, you can just go home.” 

“Thank you, Mister Baelish. I was hoping to get back to my son a little early.” 

With that she was out of his office once more. Petyr had never really cared much about the little personal comments Gwendolyn would put at the end of her sentences but that didn't mean he didn't lock all the information away for later. Gwendolyn was twenty-six and hated the nickname  _Gwen,_ her hair was long and died light blonde though her eyebrows gave away  their  natural auburn. Her voice was always cheerful no matter her mood and she didn't constantly try to drag him into conversation, Petyr appreciated that. The son she spoke of was a four-year old named Lukas, he was highly autistic but Gwendolyn and the boy's father did everything they could to take care of him and it was the reason Baelish admired his assistant; of course Petyr would never voice that particular belief. 

Petyr stood a while in thought before mentally shaking himself and turning to leave, at that very second his cellphone started to ring. Petyr sighed. 

“Yes?” He said demandingly. 

Baelish listened as an address and number of dead was listed off to him, seemed Petyr needed to perform his other occupation. That was just what he did, Petyr went and cleaned up other people's mess just like he always did, everyone thought they controlled him but they were far from the truth; he pulled the strings without the puppet having any idea of his involvement.

 

XXXX

 

When Petyr had finished cleaning up he'd gone straight to his boat to get rid of the bodies, the sharks had been particularly hungry that evening. The sun  balance d on the rim of the world and a hush  had descended leaving the evening quiet and lit with a fading orange glow. Clouds hung high in the sky blotting out the silver stars but Petyr ra rely watched the stars, there was too much going on down on earth. 

“ Hello Sweetling.” He called out when he stepped into the purple vestibule. No response came though. “Sansa?” Still nothing. 

Petyr poked his head into the living room to look at the patio doors but they were still shut which meant that she was still in the house.  He didn't need to go searching for her, Petyr had trust in the young woman; which didn't happen very often.  His clothes clung to him after the long day of moving bodies, he reeked of ocean water  and foul cologne from his shark food.  _ I really need to change,  _ Italian leather clad feet carried him up the dark stairs and into his bedroom where he shredded the shirt quickly, seconds later his shoes were toed off and put back in their assigned place. He stretched feeling his muscles loosen under his lightly tanned skin, but that was where he paused. 

“Why is my bathroom light on?” He asked himself.

Petyr pushed the dark wooden door open with an air of curiosity only to find his little redhead sat on the tiled floor with a wet cloth held over her foot, crimson dotted the floor. He dropped to his knees in an instant, a look of concern coating his face and wiped away one of Sansa's stray tears. 

“Sansa what happened?”

There was a deep gash on the sole of her left foot that leaked wine colored blood down onto the white tiles. 

“Sansa is sorry Master.” Did she really think he was angry with her? “Sansa is stupid-”

“Don't say that!” He said more forcefully than he'd intended and he saw the way her body tensed up at his tone, Littlefinger calmed his tone before speaking again. “You're anything but  _stupid,_ Sweetling.”  He sighed and looked back down to her bleeding foot. “Now, what happened?” 

Hesitantly his girl began to tell him her tale.

“Sansa was outside, Master. She stood on a sharp rock.”

The redhead did her best not to stumble over her words; he'd only ever yelled at her once before and it had terrified her then too.

“This is why I ask you to ware your shoes out there.” He told her with a smile, Sansa opened her mouth to let a string of apologies fall out but he started to speak before anything was voiced. “Let's get this cleaned up shall we?” 

Sansa nodded and watcher her Master stand out the corner of her eye, she always watched him  but never really  _looked_ at him; it was above her station. She wasn't worthy to look at his shoes let alone his face. Petyr retrieved some gauze and iodine from his bathroom cabinet before sitting down on the floor beside the only living Stark,  there was blood on her fingers where she'd dabbed at her open wound and he found himself wiping it away with one of his towels before he'd even registered that he'd moved. He worked in silence save for the  _this is going to sting_ warning he gave her as the iodine was used, her face scrunched up at that spark of pain but she made no sound; Petyr didn't know whether to be proud or concerned at that. Soon enough her foot was clean and bandaged neatly, the wound was deep but not so bad that it needed stitches. 

“All done.” He said before leaning down and pressing a soft and gentle kiss to her pale ankle, Sansa had never experienced something so... so... Sansa didn't even know the word. “That's my baby girl.” 

Joffrey would have never done something so caring or degrading, she was nothing,  _trash,_ and yet her new Master had kissed her foot, if anyone should be kissing feet then Sansa should have kissed his.  _ He's the Master, Sansa is just a pet.  _

“Come here.”

Sansa obeyed the light command and shuffled closer to the older man, as soon as she was close enough Petyr pulled her into his lap and held her; she wasn't accustom to such gentle touches but she did enjoy them. Sansa felt safe in his arms, which was a feeling that was all too uncommon. 

“Are you hungry?” He asked.

“No Master.” Her voice was quiet but not out of fear.

“I'll put you to bed then, it's late and you need your sleep.”

Before Sansa could make a move he was on his feet with Sansa in his arms bridal style, Joffrey had never carried her just pulled her along behind him via her fire-red hair. She was so light in his arms,  _much too thin,_ but at least he could no longer feel her bones through battered purple and yellow skin. He couldn't help but notice that she smelt like the sea, no doubt from her time spent outside, what surprised him was when he found himself leaning in closer to her hair to better scent the ocean. Petyr set her down in her fluffy bed and pulled the lilac sheets up over her thin frame, he bent down to kiss her pale forehead before reaching for the lamp on her night table. Her voice filled the darkness. 

“Would Master stay with Sansa?” There was an air of pleading to her voice. 

“Of course.”

What man would turn down spending an evening with Sansa, even if it was only to hold her? Baelish stripped off his black suit pants, the only clothing he still wore other than his purple boxers, and clambered into bed beside his darling girl. He watched as Sansa sat up and pulled off her yellow bra from underneath the old shirt he'd gifted her, he let an eyebrow of interest raise. She was so beautiful, now the horrible bruises Joffrey- _fucking_ -Baratheon had caused were gone she was utterly stunning... and he wanted her. Almost six months she'd been with him and she grew more confident every day, Petyr Baelish had never been so proud of anyone in his life; that didn't change how much he _wanted_ her, in fact it probably increased it. He watched her for a long time before he lost his internal battle and couldn't help but hold her tight pressing her back to his chest, she was smooth and warm as though she'd been carved from living marble; his hand wandered without permission. Calloused fingers of his tattooed arm trailed down her tiny hip to her thigh, toying with the hem of her night shirt before taking the leap and moving to the soft skin of her thigh. Absent-mindedly he started to draw little patterns while Petyr breathed in more of that ocean scent. He wanted her so badly but there was another voice in his head reminding him of just how traumatised she was, how scared and self-loathing; _she's been raped countless times for Christ's sake_ and yet his conniving hands continued to linger where they shouldn't. Her skin was so soft.

“Would Master like Sansa to be still?” 

The question hit him like a freight train and all movement ground to a halt, he'd thought she was asleep. Despite the question his little evil mind smiled, the thought of being on top of her, _in_ her was just too thought provoking. 

“No Sweetling.” Petyr sighed into the dark. “Sansa I have a confession to make. I know a good man wouldn't touch you, would never even think about it, but I'm not a good man and I just can't resist you any longer.” His hand tried to remain still. “But I'm also not a monster so I'm going to make this all about _you._ I'm going to make you cum.” He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows teasingly.

“Girls don't do that.” She mumbled assuredly to herself but he still heard her.

“Oh trust me Sansa, they do.” 

He grinned, partly because of what she said but mainly because she didn't seem scared of him. Petyr gave her a moment to refuse or break down in tears but none of that happened, in fact, he felt her body relax. That was all the encouragement his evil little mind needed, before Petyr was fully aware that his body was moving he'd thrown the soft sheets off and settled between Sansa's perfect thighs. He pushed the thin fabric of her shirt up revealing her yellow panties to his hungry green-grey eyes, Sansa instinctively tried to close her thighs but her Master's body lay in the way. 

“Do you trust me, Little One?”

No one in their right mind would or _should_ trust him, but Sansa did. Being chained to that bed for as long as she could remember had numbed her heart and almost completely silenced her thoughts but this man, this sarcastic, funny, kind, loophole finding man had given her freedom from that; he'd broken her chains and given her a new life. Sansa no longer called herself _pet_ or _whore_ or _slut_ she was Sansa Stark and that was something she'd almost forgotten, so yes, the redhead trusted him. She trusted him with everything she had, because if it wasn't for Petyr Baelish Sansa would still be chained to Joffrey's bed as nothing more than a shell of something that was once a human being used as a sex toy. 

“Yes Master.”

“Good girl. Then let your Master teach you about pleasure.”

She felt his breath on her heated skin and it tingled, no one but him had ever touched her with such care, she was nervious but pushed away the part of her mind telling her to scream and panic. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the darkness of night and she watched as he licked his lips and lowered his head towards the place that men had only ever caused her pain in.  _Was that his tongue?!_ Sansa's mind was startled, not out of fear but of uncertainty; she'd never experience anything like this before. Petyr felt her tense so pressed his palms to her legs as a sign of comfort. 

“Relax, Sweetling. No more pain, I promise.”

Petyr meant it, it was a moonlit vow that Sansa knew he'd keep. The redhead did her best to relax for her Master but the niggling voice in the back of her head screamed  _don't trust him! He'll hurt you! He lying! Pain!_ But there was another voice behind the screaming one that she would much rather listen to, it was a voice she'd never heard before,  _Master cares about you. It'll feel good. Pleasure._ That was the voice Sansa was going to listen to, that was the one that trusted Master. 

His tongue circled her sex, something Sansa had never experience before and it sent waves of...  _ something  _ through her; like a rock being tossed into a river. The girl with azure eyes had no idea how to react, what was she allowed to do? Without warning or permission her head fell back against the silk pillows and her legs spread further, his hand came up to her core and carefully a finger entered her. 

“Master!” She gasped.

It was the single greatest thing Sansa had ever felt, breath coming in pants, heart thudding in her chest. Just as promised there was no pain, only the pleasure he spoke of.

“You taste so good Sansa. So good.” As if to prove it his tongue dipped into her wet core and then up to the little bundle of nerves sucking hungrily. “Make as much noise as you want, Sweetling. I want to hear you.” 

Hormones surged through Sansa shutting down her higher brain and giving way to the rise of her animal self. Each touch was like divine fire that Sansa felt she wasn't worthy of, but as long as her Master was willing to show her pleasure Sansa would take it with glee. 

She tasted so sweet, so addictive that he though she should be illegal. He could feel her heartbeat race as her smooth milky hips rocked up to meet his mouth. Her fists clenched the sheets and he grinned as his tongue slipped inside her wet core. Petyr was the first to do this to her, the first to taste her and give his darling girl pleasure; his ego surged. 

Sansa couldn't speak or think, all the evil and painful memories were washed away leaving only the fire between her legs that threatened to erupt at any second. The redhead had never imagined anything could feel this good, she'd guessed it felt that way for men, that was why they did it, but she'd never imagined anything could feel like this. Moans and pants slipped from her lips without permission and they just seemed to spur him on, almost like her juices waltzed on his tongue. Something built and built like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“Hands in my hair not the sheets.”

It was the first time he'd ever given her a real order but the girl didn't seem to notice, white fingers released the sheets and moved to his perfectly placed greying hair messing it up; her legs fell further open letting her Master ravage her. His grip on her thigh was tight and would certainly leave bruising but neither cared in that moment, Sansa's lungs couldn't find enough air as the edge came into view. It was steep and slippery at the top, Sansa knew she could fall so easily, but would that edge lead to death or bliss? 

“Master, Sansa...” 

_What? Feel_ _s_ _strange?_ _Is_ _going to explode? Going to die?_ The redhead had no idea how to explain the heat ablaze in her belly. 

“Cum for your Master.” He commanded, tongue moving rapidly over that sensitive bundle of nerves.

Sansa nearly forgot how to breath, two fingers pushed into her wet heat  and crooked, that was all Sansa could take. She didn't know how but her body seemed to know what her Master had ordered, she came. Hard. Fast. The world turned white like a bomb had gone off behind her eyes. 

“Master!”

Petyr pulled back just so he could watch her body wriggle and contort in utter euphoria, lips parted with an unvoiced moan. Her flaming hair hung around her  face giving his girl the sense of glowing and he'd never seen anything so beautiful in all his life. Petyr had loved Catelyn, at least he thought he had up until that moment looking down at Sansa, maybe that was just what a teenage boy had thought was love, because it didn't come close to what he felt for the girl purring with pleasure beneath him. 

Baelish couldn't help but palm his erection as he watched Sansa's chest rise and fall while her azure eyes rolled back in her head. The black leather belt clicked open with ease and his hand slipped inside quickly to the point of desperation,  Petyr's hand was wet with his girl's juices as he took a firm  grip on his hard member. His green-grey orbs  took in her sweat coated body,ears taking in the blissful moans, until his  long stroke were too much and his eyes fluttered shut; they burst open again when he felt Sansa move. 

“Sansa wants to help.” She told him, cerulean locked on his length.

“I said this party was all about you.” He smiled, hand never stilling. “I can take care of myself at the after party.”

He may have been conniving and  _bad_ but that didn't mean he'd push her more than he already had. 

“Sansa is for pleasing her Master.”

Petyr's brow furrowed. 

“Sweetling, please stop referring to yourself in third person. You're a human being not a _thing,_ and no that's not your job. Plus you're killing the mood.” His breathing was thick.

_No matter how many times I tell her, she still thinks she's my slave._ The greying man made to stand from the bed but Sansa's voice halted him. 

“Can Sansa do it anyway?” 

The question was so full of hope that Petyr had to admit he was a little surprised, she couldn't possibly have asked out of want so he  decided to test her, a test he knew she'd fail. 

“Why?”

Silence. Cold, dead silence. He knew her normal response would be  _ because it's Sansa's job  _ or something along those lines. There was silence for a long time and Petyr waited patiently for her to come up with something, the way she bit her lip while thinking kept him from fully softening.

“Because Sansa...” She paused, clearly what she was trying to say was unnatural to her. “... because _I_ want to, Master.” 

Petyr grinned ear to ear, she used  _I_ and had let herself want something. Her struggled to get the words out told him she wasn't just saying it because she thought it was what he wanted to hear and for that reason Petyr couldn't be more proud. 

“Say that again, but only if you mean it.”

“... I want to, Master.”

Baelish knew he shouldn't but after that he just couldn't help himself. His knees hit the bed and he leaned back on his haunches, his cock growing to full hardness again at just the memory of her words. Sansa smiled to herself and sprang into action, there was no fear left in her, almost as though she'd forgotten Joffrey existed. Petyr gasped.  The redhead's talented tongue swirled around the head tasting the bead of pre-cum before taking him into her mouth and sucking hungrily. When his mind came back to him he'd wonder if he should be ashamed, the first time the girl had done something for herself and he'd gotten a blowjob out of it, soon after Petyr would decide he didn't care because the wetness of her mouth was just too good.  His hips didn't thrust deep into her throat like Joffrey would have but there was no way he could still  his hips; she felt so good around him.  _Did he feel like this when he was the one using his mouth?_ She wondered quietly. His fingers were in her long red hair grazing against her scalp  sending sparks through her thin form. 

“That's my baby girl.” He praised. “You are _undeniably_ perfect.”

No one had ever called Sansa perfect before and she couldn't deny the sense of happiness it gave her. Petyr let his stormy eyes flutter shut and it was then that he knew... he'd  _never_ give Sansa up. She  was his now, all  _his._

“Sansa I'm gonna...” He never got to finish what he was saying. “Sansa!” 

H is seed filled her mouth and for the first time in her life Sansa didn't feel disgusting and like she was going to throw up.  She swallowed  as much as she could and wiped her mouth of what remained, she's spat Joffrey's seed out once and faced  the consequences  but with Petyr she did it out of wanting to hear his moan again; she got it. 

They made each other happy.

 

XXXX

 

He woke hours later to the darkness, the sun wouldn't rise for hours yes and there was no strange noise, so why was he awake? Why was he staring up at the ceiling? Then he felt his girls soft hand tracing along the tattoos that coated his left arm, she had more or less sprawled across his body, having gone to sleep cuddled up to his right side, with a single finger ghosting over the designs. She hadn't noticed him wake so Petyr just watched her for a time with a lazy half smile. There were many designs on the sleeve, some more important than others but all had meaning to them, and it came to an end on his left wrist in a simple thin black band. It was all in black and grey save for a small air of purple that ran through the shading, the tattoo her fingers seemed to favour was a large mockingbird sitting atop a branch over his shoulder as though guarding the other tattoos.

“Master, what does _I was born good but had grown pro... pro... progressively worse every year_ mean?” 

Seemed she did know he was awake,  _clever girl_ , Petyr didn't question her on it though he just rolled to his right so she had better access to his tattooed arm. 

“It's a quote from _To Kill A Mockingbird,_ a book. My mother would read it to me as a child and try to teach me with that line that on the inside everyone was good, it was the things that had happened to them that made them do bad things. For a time I believed her, but then I saw how evil some are and what I became. Just because she believed it didn't make it true.” 

“You're not evil, Master.” Sansa told him adamantly. He'd never heard that tone from her before. 

“But I'm not good either. You know that mockingbird pin I ware?” She nodded. “It was hers, I remember very little about her but she was a good mother, I remember that much.”

Sansa realised her Master didn't like the subject and tried to move on to a different tattoo, this time a flower over his elbow. Petyr didn't seem like the sort for a lily tattoo but Sansa supposed that they all had meaning. 

“What's this one?”

“That's a Stargazer Lily. They were my Mother's favourite and her name.” 

Sansa nearly kicked herself at that, it was probably the only other tattoo in the sleeve he had for his mother and Sansa went straight to it. He didn't seem to mind too much though, and the tattoo was beautiful with its delicate petals of grey and black; almost as though it would fall apart if touched. There was one thing on the sleeve that she was curious about though, and it wasn't a tattoo, there was a small void on his forearm that looked like he'd walked away before the sleeve was done. 

“Why is there a gap?”

“Because I don't know what shoulder go there, Sweetling. Once something fills it then the sleeve is finished but nothing ever seems right to complete it. I've gotten to the point where I think I'll never find what should be there.” 

“If you have an idea Sansa could draw them for you, Master.” She offered in a sleepy voice.

“I'd like that, Sweetling. Now go to sleep.” 

It didn't take long for Sansa to obey. 


	11. Man's Best Friend

_ She didn't remember being taken, being terrified, but not being taken. All Sansa could remember clearly was the blood pooling around the dead bodies of her family, they'd been planning on killing her too until a beautiful woman with long blonde hair had insisted they take her as a pet for her 'little boy'. The pain of being dragged up hard wooden stairs, tripping and falling over her feet, to her Master's bedroom only remained in patches; of that night the sound her collar had made when a boy only a few years older than herself had clicked it on remained. The soul crushing tone of it jangling when the dark leather had been forced around her neck. That was the first moment of her new life being bound to her prison. After that she'd had nothing but pain, bruises and bloody cuts.  _

_ Sansa bolted awake. A dream. Petyr Baelish, her new Master, had been nothing but a fantasy. The leather was heavy around her neck and it stung, silver moonlight drifted in through the window of Joffrey's bedroom illuminating her cell. She thought of the man with stormy eyes, she'd known he was too good to be true; No one had ever been kind to her and no one ever would.  _

_ Her heart froze, her eyes clamped shut as she heard his bedroom door open and saw the dark leather of her Master's shoes step inside; he stumbled which meant was drunk and angry. The blonde's pet tried to say quiet and hoped he'd just pass out on the bed, it was the only wish she could have anymore. Joffrey's feet came to a stop by the bed and his belt snapped open, this was not to be one of the nights he just passed out. The chain was pulled taut closing her throat and blocking out the air as he tugged her out of from her hiding place, her vision blurred and her lungs cried out for oxygen. It stung like she was coated in vicious wasps but the pet knew it was then least painful of what he'd do. Her blonde Master had an aura around him of stale beer and what she'd come to know was the smell of something he called 'weed'. Every laboured breath she managed to pull in stank of the drug making her regret breathing in the first place, the pet wished she could stop, permanently. Maybe death would be kinder to her.  _

_ Long ago after her escape attempts had ended she'd wrapped the long chain around her neck and pulled as hard as her fragile body could, just as the darkness started to close in around her eyes and her body turned numb, that single moment when the redhead thought she could be free Master had found her. The chain had been shortened after that and her spine had been bruised for weeks; impressions of Joffrey's shoes had littered her face and one eye had swollen shut.  _

“ _Whore!” Her Master screamed. “You're filthy! Can't even clean up for your Master!”_

_ Sansa couldn't get three feet from Joffrey's bed let alone to the shower. Everything was always her fault, done on purpose by her to anger Joffrey; that was just what little sluts like her did.  _

“ _Think my little bitch needs to wash some of that filth off.”_

_ Before she could even process that he'd yelled again the blonde teen pulled a silver key from around his neck and released the padlock that bound the chain to his bedpost, he wrapped the icy metal chain around his sticky hand and started to tug her out the room. Hard wood burnt and squeaked as her thighs scraped over floor leaving behind angry red marks and deep scratches that bled a rich crimson. The bathroom was cold but the redhead couldn't tell, her body had turned to solid ice long ago. Her head cracked against the porcelain bathtub with such force that she thought he'd broken her skull for a moment, the girl with pale skin's head rang like a bell had been struck. The noise of water flooding into the white bath filled her ears causing the pain to intensify. High pitched. Buzzing. Screeching. Nails on a chalkboard. The bath filled quickly while Joffrey lit another cigarette and gifted the redhead with another kick to her ribs.  _

“ _Ready for your bath? Hmm? Get some of that filth off you!”_

 _With that_ _ Sansa felt the chain rip upwards pulling her up onto bruised knees and forced her head under the water. In the movies drowning was always loud and full of splashing, her hands clung to the white rim desperately fighting her Master in need of air, it was strange Sansa was ready for death in mind yet her body fought blindly. At first the lack of air was just uncomfortable but as time ticked by her cells started to scream out in need and pressure built in her head as though someone was squeezing it. Red hair shrouded her pale face dancing the the water and in a way it was a blessing, a blessing that she got to see some beauty as death closed in; teasing her.  _ _It was then she_ _began to fall._ _F_ _all further and further into the darkness until it threaten_ _ed_ _to swallow_ _her_ _whole._

Sansa sat bolt up right in the dark, lungs gulping in air and sweat dripping from her body like a waterfall. She shivered. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust before Sansa realised that Petyr was beside her with his arms around her damp shoulders.  _He's real._

“Shush, you're alright  Sweetling. Everything's okay, I promise.” 

The words of comfort helped, if only to ground her to reality. Sansa forced her breathing to calm to something that resembled normal, the air tasted so good crisp and pure. She could hear him muttering sweet nothings in a desperate attempt to help her, just another kindness he showed her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Sansa shook her head profusely and Petyr didn't force her, she'd been screaming in her sleep, begging for mercy, for air. It had horrified him, it took a lot to frighten Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish but her screams had. In an attempt to banish the memories from his mind Petyr stood from the bed and went to his closet and pulled out a clean shirt for her to ware, the one Sansa was in almost dripped with cold sweat. He undid her shirt buttons slowly so as not to scare her and slipped it from her shoulders. 

“Thank... thank you...” Sansa stuttered. 

“Everything is going to be alright, Sweetling.” 

Soon enough the new light grey shirt was buttoned up while the old found itself balled up and thrown in the general direction of the hamper. Masculine arms snaked around his girl to hold her tight, if Sansa didn't want to talk about her nightmare holding her was really all he could do; she was his to protect. 

“I'll make you some tea.”

Petyr made to turn and leave the room but the sudden grip on his wrist kept him in place. 

“No, Master please stay. Please don't leave Sansa alone.” She begged. 

“Alright, Sweetling.” 

He couldn't deny her, not his Sansa so he sat down on the bed and pulled her close. She revealed in the warmth and comfort he offered her; pure peace. There was a hush over the room for a long time, one of those quietudes that did more than words ever could, just the two of them. Eventually that silence came to an end with a smug smile and a kiss to her sweaty forehead. 

“It's alright.” He said again. “ I'm your Master now and that means you'll always have me.” Sansa smiled at his words, he was the only thing to ever make her smile. “I've been thinking... you belong to me now, then I'm your Master. _Your_ Master. Which means I belong to you just as much as you belong to me.”

Sansa stared down at the bed sheets with a confused expression coating her face, she seemed to have forgotten about her nightmare and he knew the little cogs in her head were turning trying to figure out what he meant; Sansa had never had anything belong to her. She must have worked something out in her head though because he saw her smile after a moment. Petyr had always thought love was weakness, a distraction, but with Sansa he was beginning to think it could be strength.  _When the hell did I start thinking love?_

“Sansa deserves nothing of Master.” She told him quietly.

“Well tough because you have me.” There was silence for a second until he added with a smile. “And I'm your Master so what I say goes.”

Sansa just continued to smile softly. 

 

XXXX

 

It was two in the afternoon when Joffrey Baratheon stormed into Baelish's office at Lion and Stag, cellphone in one hand and a half drunk cup of coffee in the other. Petyr knew it wasn't going to be good the second he'd looked up; the blonde only ever came to his office when he wanted something.

“Kaegan has something that needs cleaning up, I said you'd be there in twenty minutes. Go and do it.”

The aggravating child turned to leave and Petyr couldn't help but sigh letting his pen fall from his hand. His grey-green eyes flashed over to the framed drawing Sansa had given him and it brought a smile to his lips. 

“Joffrey.” The boy stopped and looked back with a _what_ expression on his face. “I can't clean up after this _K_ _ae_ _gan_ of yours if I don't know where he is.”

A spark of realisation shot through the child and then anger because Petyr had told him; if there was one thing Joffrey couldn't stand it was when people showed how moronic he really was. The blonde wandered over to the CFO's desk and pulled a notepad and a pen, there was scribbling for a moment before the pad and pen were thrown back at him and the child left. Petyr sat there for a moment in utter silence, God how he wanted to kill that bastard, he couldn't though, not yet at least; Petyr had to do it when no one could possibly think he had a hand in it. 

Gwendolyn had been surprised to find her boss leaving early, he never left early on a Wednesday, it was the one day Tywin Lannister spent the whole day at Lion and Stag which meant that all the high level executives did as well; not including Joffrey of course. The blonde assistant let him go though and actually seemed happy about it when she realised that it meant she could leave as well, the mother always enjoyed getting home early to be with Lukas. 

Petyr flicked on the stereo as his sleek grey Aston Martin DBS glided along the roads, one arm rested on the open window frame letting in the heated air and orange sun, a cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. The address Joffrey had scrawled was on the other side of Kings Landing though the blonde had told his friend Petyr would be there is twenty minutes it would take a good thirty-five what with the after lunch traffic to get down to the docks.

 

 _I am the passenger and I ride and I ride_  
I ride through the city's backsides  
I see the stars come out of the sky  
Yeah, the bright and hollow sky  
You know it looks so good tonight

 

Fingers drummed on the steering wheel while the dark-haired man hummed along to the song. Stormy eyes glance up when a flock of birds went over in a V formation. Gone were the blustery days of winter, summer dominated all of Westeros. 

 

 _I am the passenger_  
I stay under glass  
I look through my window so bright  
I see the stars come out tonight  
I see the bright and hollow sky  
Over the city's ripped backsides  
And everything looks good tonight.

 

The sky seemed bluer than it had been the previous day, perhaps it was because of the conversation he and Sansa had the night before, or maybe it was the lack of clouds, Petyr wasn't certain. Obviously Sansa had taken comfort from their conversation the night before because he'd woken to a smiling young woman making him coffee; he hadn't been aware she'd watched him enough to teach herself that but Petyr hadn't questioned it. Sansa seemed happy, more so than he'd seen her in the entire time he'd had her with him; Baelish's ego grinned at the fact he was the one to make her so happy. 

 

 _Get into the car_  
We'll be the passenger  
We'll ride through the city tonight  
We'll see the city's ripped backsides  
We'll see the bright and hollow sky  
We'll see the stars that shine so bright  
Stars made for us tonight  


The second  Petyr parked and looked up at the address Joffrey had sent him to Petyr wanted to bleach his eyes. It was a run down little warehouse that looked rat infested and way too  _grey_ for his liking; it was one of those places that just made him want to look to the camera and ask if this was a joke. The place was secluded so that was one boon for him to work with, though the cleaner didn't want to leave his Aston Martin unattended for too long. Petyr pulled his trusty duffel bag of tricks from the car trunk and headed into the hovel of a warehouse. 

Beer, that was the first thing he smelt followed by blood. There were two floors of the warehouse, well the second floor was more of an oversized catwalk, but a second floor nevertheless. Large square pillars ran the length of the building holding the remnants up, each one was coated in pealing white and green paint; the only problem was that age had turned the white a hideous yellow and the green almost black.  _There isn't enough bleach in the world._ In the centre of the room was a poker table littered with a mess of cards and spilt beer bottles, to the left on the concrete floor was a dead man almost swimming in a pool of his own blood and crouched over said body was a young man with mocha skin and a shaved head. Petyr watched for a time as the younger man repeatedly picked up the dead man's wrist and let it drop to the floor splattering in cold blood.  _ It seems that today's crime scene clean up has been brought to me by the letters WTF.  _

“I assume you're Kaegan.” His voice was stoic. 

“Well it's about fucking time.” The younger man stood to face Petyr. “Thought I was gonna die of old age.” 

Petyr had knew exactly who Kaegan Irelan now they were face to face and wasn't surprised to find he'd killed someone, Petyr only concerned himself with three kinds of people; those who benefited him, those who were a threat to him and those he could use. To be entirely honest the other man looked like a wanna be gangster and had fallen from the could be used category when he'd been disowned. 

“Believe it or not but CFO of Lion and Stag Enterprises is not a hobby.”

“Whatever, just get on with it.”

Petyr sighed internally and dropped the bag to the floor he was about to speak again when a dog barked from under the poker table. That was the one thing he'd not been expecting. 

“Oh, I forgot about the mutt.”

Kaegan pulled a Glock 17 from his belt and aimed at the dog who cowered away. 

“Wait! I'll deal with the dog, you need to change out of those bloody clothes.” Petyr reached into his bag and took out a pair of mint green scrubs before throwing them at Kaegan. “Put these on and leave me the ones you're wearing now. I suggest after that you go home, put on your own clothes and then go somewhere public.” 

“Does anyone know you and he are acquainted other than Joffrey?”

“Yeah, a few people.”

“Will any of them care that this man is dead?” The question was short, simple and to the point.

“Nah. No one is gonna give a shit.” Kaegan started to strip off his blood soaked clothes. “Bet they'll be happy, and if I didn't do it Ramsay or Joff would 'ave.” 

_ Ramsay Bolton, should have fucking guessed that mad bastard was involved with this.  _ Petyr let out another sigh. 

“Once this man is reported missing there will be a search for him, I doubt the police will try very hard though. If you go somewhere public CCTV will pick you up and you have a solid alibi for the general time he went missing.” _Am I explaining this to a three-year old?_ “Clothes.”

Kaegan's worn blue jeans and blood stained t-shirt found themselves hurtling towards the older man only to land on the floor with a dense thud. 

“That's not a 'alf bad plan, mate. Seems there's a reason Joff kept you about.” 

“I aim to please.” The Cleaner muttered as he pulled out a trash bag to sling Kaegan's soiled clothes into. The dog barked again, shuffling towards its dead owner.

“Mate, why is that dog still alive?!”

Petyr was silent for a moment while he set a flattened sheet of plastic and rolled the grey suited body onto it before returning to the pool of blood. 

“The dog is still alive because that way I don't have to clean that up too.”

“Whatever you say. I'll leave you to your fun.”

Kegan left moments later, the door slamming shut behind him and Petyr let out a breath of relief.  Blood was everywhere, in a pool on the floor, splattered up the poker table, covering the animal's paws and even dripping through the plastic sheeting. Baelish estimated there had been seven bullet wounds, all to the chest, he'd clocked twelve spent shell casings though which meant five more bullets lay scattered around the abandoned warehouse. With song lyrics buzzing around his head  Petyr tied off either end of the damp plastic sheeting and carried the body out and into the trunk of his car. He'd been right, the docks were completely abandoned; _I could run around naked for an hour and no one would see._ The dark-haired Cleaner laughed to himself.

It was then Petyr decided, decided to burn the place to the ground. Feet  carried him back to his duffel bag where he crouched and pulled put a small black spray bottle of ammonia, safer than carrying around hydrogen peroxide though not as effective. It didn't matter the fire would destroy any DNA that remained. He spread the chemical quickly, diluting and destroying all in its path. Then he looked down to the dog, a puppy really, a Wolfdog if he wasn't mistaken.

“What am I to do with you?” He asked the creature as it padded towards him. “Sit.” The dog obeyed. “So you're trained, a little anyway. Don't worry little puppy dog, I won't kill you. I think animals are more important than most of humanity, probably more intelligent too.”

The puppy had no leash, only a pink spiked collar that Petyr thought hideous, he bent down and picked up the dog  settling it in his arms quietly and walking off to his car. The Wolfdog seemed happy enough to sit patiently in his  classic Aston Martin while Petyr pulled an empty jerrycan from his trunk behind the wrapped body. Baelish had filled the car up that morning and knew he could siphon enough off to get a good fire going and that was just what he did. 

Soon enough Petyr stood watching the flames take over the large warehouse on the docks, by the time anyone got to it all evidence would be gone. The body would end up in Shark bellies like all the others and never be found.

Two hours later Petyr found himself and the dog out on his yacht throwing chunks of  unnamed man over the side feeding the hungry sharks. It amazed Petyr that just a little bit of blood called so many great whites in; like ringing a dinner bell.  The dog sat on the dock alternating between watching the sharks swimming through the blue water and Petyr himself. Once the  yacht had been docked again and his house was in view Petyr turned his attention back to the animal. 

“Alright, you're going to a shelter.” The dog whimpered. “Don't look at me like that. You're going to a shelter.” The dog continued to stare at him. “Great! Do I just take in strays now? What am I saying? No, you're going to a shelter or I leave you here on the dock, your choice.”

The animal looked up at him with big dark eyes, he refused to be swayed by the young creature. Until...

“ _Fine_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from The Passenger by Iggy Pop.


	12. The Seven Deadly Sins Are Man's True Nature

Petyr shut the front door behind himself and the Wolfdog pup softly, with a single word she sat with her tail wagging as he walked away into the living room. He found Sansa curled up on the couch as he did so many nights, a pencil in one hand sketching while the other arm was circled around Copper, she did love that toy. His girl didn't notice him until he poked his head over her shoulder to see her drawing. 

“That's really good, Sweetling. It looks just like Copper.” He praised. 

“Thank you, Master.” She smiled up at him though her eyes remained downcast. “Sansa is glad Master is home.”

Petyr held out his hand for the young redhead to take and she did once Copper was nestled under her arm. She had no fear towards Petyr any more. 

“Come on, Sweetling. I have a present for you.” 

“Master spoils Sansa.” She told him softly. 

“True. However, I do as I please and spoiling you is what I want to do, and anyway this wasn't entirely _my_ idea.” He shook certain thoughts from his mind before adding. “Close your pretty little eyes for me.”

Sansa obeyed and let her Master usher her into the purple vestibule, his hand in hers was a comfort that seeped through her pale skin and into her very soul. Petyr showered her with kindness and gifts and though Sansa didn't need any of the presents she greatly enjoyed the look on his face when he gave them to her. Master brought her to a halt just before the stairs, or so she thought, and placed his hands on her small shoulders. 

“Ta-dah! Open your eyes.”

Sansa obeyed pulling them open and gasped more loudly than she thought possible. Before her was the most beautiful creature Sansa had ever seen, the animal was a real life version of Copper only rather than grey fur that finished with a red sheen this one had a grey back, ears and tail while its tummy and front legs were almost pure white. 

“Do you like her?” Petyr asked, genuinely curious. 

“Yes, Master. She's beautiful." Sansa's tone was a little awe struck. 

“Good, because she'd yours. I don't like you being here alone all day and this lady volunteered.” He gestured towards the animal. “You can walk her in the back yard, that's big enough for a Wolfdog to entertain herself with considering it's about a mile wide and long, plus there are no fences. Go pet her then.” 

Sansa grinned and took a step forward before turning to her Master and holding Copper up towards him. 

“Would you hold him?”

“Of course.”

Petyr took the toy dog that she so adored and watched as his girl hesitantly went to the dog and crouched, the animal was a little cautious to start with just as Sansa had been with Petyr. He watched his fire haired girl reach out a hand for the dog to sniff before softly stroking her head, the Wolfdog cuddled into Sansa happily. It was only when the spiked pink collar came into view that she backed away her face coated in horrid memories; Baelish leapt into action. A large hand void of Copper adeptly unbuckled the pink monstrosity and shoved it into his pocket out of sight, Sansa just kept her eyes on the animal before her. 

“We'll get her something else shall we? No collars.”

Sansa nodded profusely while her eyes calmed and her hands returned to stroking her new pet. The older man watched for a while with a grin on his face, not one of those usual smirks, no, this was a real smile; those only ever came out for Sansa. 

“What shall you name her?” He asked his girl. _The puppy is young enough to learn a new name,_ he thought absent-mindedly.

The redhead thought for a while, Master had been the one to name Copper and other than; Petyr, Olyvar, Kaegan, Duvall and Joffrey, Sansa didn't know names and they were all male names. In the books her Master had taught her to read there were two sisters called Yvonne and Fiona but the Stark didn't much like those names. She thought for a time that was no more than a minute about what her Master had said, _… this little lady volunteered, _that was it.

“Can Sansa call her _Lady,_ Master?”

“Of course you can Sansa.” Petyr looked down at the grey puppy. “Hello Lady.” Lady barked and he took it to be a sign she liked her new name. “Sansa, there is chicken in the refrigerator, she can have that for tonight. And here, have him back.” 

He gave Copper back to his girl and watched as she led the young pup through his house. Once she was out of sight Petyr chucked the collar into the trash and headed upstairs for a much needed shower. 

As soothing hot water cascaded over his naked body Littlefinger started to think, some sang in the shower, not Petyr, he reflected on the days and how much closer they had brought him to what he wanted.  _ Six months ago I could go and do as I pleased and now... now I'm playing happy families with the Catelyn and Ned Stark's daughter and a card sharks dog. What the fuck is wrong with me?  _ For possibly the first time ever Petyr realised how lonely he'd been before, thinking he'd not needed anyone.  _What's the point of taking everything if there is no one to share it with?_ Suddenly Petyr shut off the water and just stood there in utter silence.  _Christ I've gone soft!_ But then he thought about how happy Lady had made his Sansa, he couldn't take that away from her.  _And she's far more beautiful than her mother ever was._

“I'm keeping her.” He announced to the empty bathroom. “The fucking dog too. She's a Stark, the last Stark and I want her!”

If there was one thing he'd learnt in this world it was that there was no chance, fate or destiny, there was only what the world took and what he could take from the world. Sansa was his now and not even the world could take her from him. 

 

Once Petyr had dried off and dressed in his dark grey night pants he lit a cigarette, the hot smoke filling his lungs, wrapping around them like a warm blanket. Everyone said smoking killed but Baelish knew the Lannisters were more of a threat to him than his little sticks of delight. Nicotine was his reward for having survived the day. He knew the smell bothered Sansa though so he took each drag quickly blowing the smoke out the open window and into the dark night. 

When the dark-haired man had finished with his treat he walked purposefully through his house and into Sansa's bedroom where he had to stop and take a second to just look. She was sat on her bed reading _T_ _he Raven_ by _Edgar Allan Poe_ she wasn't very far through it but considering a little over six months ago she couldn't read or spell her own name, credit where credit was due. Copper was resting underneath her chin while the live wolf, newly named Lady, had curled up by her side. She looked utterly stunning.

“Sansa  Sweetling don't read in the dark.” He flicked on her bedside lamp filling the room with artificial light and sat down beside her. “You'll hurt your eyes.” 

“Sorry Master.”

“I'm very impressed that you're reading that, It's not easy.” Sansa smiled. “Did you finish the other books I got you?” 

“Yes Master, Sansa read them.” Her voice was filled with the need for sleep, she'd be off to bed soon. 

“Sweetling, what did I ask?”

“... _I_ read them.” The girl corrected herself.

“Good girl.” Baelish praised her with a grin. “Would you read to me, Sweetling?” 

“Of course, anything Master wants.”

“That's my girl.”

With that Sansa started to read out loud for him.

“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pon... pon-”

“Pondered.” He corrected.

Sansa smiled and and started over. 

 

“ _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,_

_Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—_

_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,_

_As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._

_'’Tis some visitor,' I muttered, 'tapping at my chamber door—_

_Only this and nothing more.'”_

 

Her voice was heavenly to him, like the smoothest silk. As his girl read he found her slowly snuggling into his side, Petyr thought it almost domestic, he couldn't resist slipping an arm around her and holding his redhead close. Sansa had utter trust in him, no one had  _ever_ trusted him like she did and Petyr found himself feeling almost honoured by it. Anyone who had any trust in him usually ended up being screwed over but not Sansa, he couldn't hurt his darling Sansa. She was his now. Petyr kept telling her that she wasn't a possession but deep down they both knew she was his, maybe not an object but his nevertheless... and Sansa seemed to be okay with that. 

Suddenly the redhead yawned mid sentence and it brought a half-smile to his lips while his hand came up to cup her cheek, her skin was so soft. He loved that she still wore his shirts to bed, just another thing that made her _his._ Sansa wasn't stupid she could see the way he looked at her, the way his fingers took any opportunity to stroke against her skin. 

“Would Master like Sansa – me – to touch him?” Her question was timid. 

“Very much, Sweetling.” He sighed. “But it's late and you need your sleep.” 

“San- I want to make Master feel good.” She tried so hard to us _I_ and _me_ just like he wanted.

“So eager to please.”

That smug grin of his returned. Petyr Baelish wasn't a good man, he knew that and he'd accepted it long ago, he knew he shouldn't but Petyr just couldn't help himself. _At least I'm not forcing her._ With ease  a hand reached inside to take himself in hand. Sanas's azure eyes trailed down to take all her Master's masculinity in, she leaned in but found her Master's free hand resting on her shoulder in a silent _no._

“Wait. Come here,  Sweetling.” 

She allowed him to cup her cheek and bring her in to gently press their lips together in a soft but needy kiss. When they broke apart he could see Sansa blush,  _actually blush._

“Have you ever been kissed by anyone else?” He asked, one hand still stroking his hard member and remembering the first kiss he'd stolen.

“Yes, but not like that Master.” He wasn't surprised to hear her tone a little embarrassed.

“Ahh, and did you like it when _I_ kissed you?”

“... Yes.”

The redness of her blush grew and travelled down her neck turning her skin almost the same color as her hair. When he'd given in to his wants before he'd been more focused on the lips between her legs than the ones she used to call him Master. With a grin Petyr crashed their lips together once more, this time for a deeper kiss. 

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

Sansa looked down, she wasn't beautiful or even pretty, at least that was what she thought. Baelish could tell she didn't believe him. 

“You are. Sansa please believe that and never forget it.” Petyr felt himself pulse and a small moan escaped his lips. “Do you still want to pleasure your Master? You don't have to.” 

Petyr was many things but he drew the line at rape. Before he'd fully finished his sentence Sansa was nodding her head and settling herself between his thighs, he watched with glee as his girl took him into her mouth; Petyr's hands shot into her red hair. Flashes of horror bombarded Sansa, memories of the pain Joffrey and his so-called friends had caused, she pushed them down and forced them away though; Petyr would never hurt her she knew that. Soon enough Sansa had banished old evil memories to oblivion and she found something that surprised her a little... she liked using her mouth on him; actually enjoyed it. Her new Master was bigger than Joffrey but he didn’t force it down her throat, there was no pain and that made Sansa place even more trust in her Master than she already had. His large hand rested in her hair, nails gliding over her scalp sending shivers down her spine; Sansa wanted to please him and not because she feared the consequences if she didn't but because she enjoyed the moans that left his lips.

Sansa sucked softly and r an her tongue around the head of Petyr's hard member.

Baelish's hands gripped a little harder on her soft hair _,_ his fingernails scraped along her scalp and only encouraged his girl. Petyr was her first for pleasure and it was something she would saver. The older man wasn't stupid he could tell his girl was nervous even though she'd taken him into her mouth before, every now and again her teeth would catch him and when she tried to take him down deeper she gagged. 

“Don't force yourself, Sweetling.” Sansa wouldn't give up though. “Use your hand instead.”

He told her with his eyes fixed on her beautiful mouth. Sansa was a quick study and in only a few seconds she had her hand around what her mouth couldn't handle, she hummed happily sending those pleasurable vibrations up through her Master's body. His stormy eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back against the cerulean pillows, Petyr's grip on her hair grew tighter and Sansa knew he was close; sure enough a few moments later he was pulling on her hair trying to get her to release him.

“I'm... San... sa.” He could hardly speak.

As he hung on the edge he found Sansa suddenly pulling away letting him slip from her mouth with a pop. Petyr's eyes flew open and for a moment he thought he'd hurt her. 

“Does Master want Sansa- me on my back now?” 

Everything was silent for a moment as Petyr tried to process the question, his ego grinned. 

“Do you really trust me enough for that, Sweetling?” Sansa nodded with a smile, her eyes still locked down on his chest. “Alright.” The word was nothing more than a whisper. 

Sansa didn't look frightened, she lay down gently letting Petyr shift his weight over her tiny frame and knock her thighs apart. How Petyr had longed for this. Baelish let a little more weight rest on her and then all hell broke loose. Sansa kicked out and pushed her Master away, acidic tears filled her eyes and her body tensed. Sharp terrified kicks slammed into the older man's chest and Petyr jumped back as though he'd been burnt. It was all too much, he'd gone too far.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry Sansa.” His grey-green eyes were filled with concern for his girl. 

Sansa wiped the tears from her azure eyes and forced her lungs to take deep breaths of air. Her Master hadn't hurt her but Sansa had associated that weight with pain, horror and blood for so long that she just reacted. 

“Sansa's sorry Master.” She sounded ready to cry.

“No, Sweetling. You're not ready and I don't blame you. Maybe you never will be and that's not your fault.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

“But Sansa wants to please her Master. _I_ want to.”

Petyr was so proud that his girl tried to use _I_ and _me_ rather than her usual Sansa, but that was unimportant at that moment. 

“Little One, please don't force yourself.” He sighed. “There's no need.”

For a long time Petyr just sat there with his red-headed girl in his strong and protective arms, Sansa clung to him with need until her heart had calmed and she'd regained her ability to speak. 

“Maybe... maybe Sansa-” The redhead cut her stuttering off abruptly.

“Go on, Sweetling.” He encouraged. “You can tell me anything.” 

He ducked his head to try and catch her eye but he failed, Petyr had come to accept that she'd probably never look him in the eyes. He could live with that. Nerves trembled through her body but Sansa had to answer her Master. 

“Sansa is not allowed, Master. Would be wrong.”

“How about you tell me anyway hmm? Let your Master decide.”

His words were full of kindness that Sansa still wasn't certain she deserved. 

“Could Sansa... could  _I..._ be... be- no it's wrong for Sansa to ask.” She cautiously glanced up to her Master who wore a face of patients and words suddenly fell from her lips in a burst. “Could Sansa be on top?” 

Petyr's eyebrows shot up at the request... as well as something else, he'd thought the mood was forever gone but it seemed not; just the idea had his arousal growing again. A good man would say no, tuck her up and let her sleep but Petyr wasn't a good man. 

“Come here, Sweetling.” 

Large hands took hold of Sansa's hot thighs and pulled her to straddle his hips, she looked so nervous above him so he made certain to move slowly, she'd feared enough for one day. For all eternity really. Nimble fingers slowly opened the small pearl like buttons of her night shirt and slid it from her shoulders, he'd not seen her fully naked since the day he'd brought her to his home, her skin was pale and void of bruises, only faint scares remained. Sansa was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen even in the dark moonlight; so pale with such firm breasts. Petyr couldn't help but cup them in his hands, thumbs ghosting over her pink nipples. Sansa let out a moan that seemed to symbolise the passing of her fear.  _Should I stop? I already know she wasn't ready. I should stop, but I don't want to._ Sansa felt his hand move down to her sex, she was wet and Petyr growled. 

“Let your Master take care of you, Sweetling.”

The hand not cupping her sex returned to his member stroking quickly bringing himself back to full hardness, his Sansa was beautiful, it wasn't difficult to let his arousal burst forth a new. Less than an inch from her glistening entrance his teasing fingers ground to a halt. 

“Last chance, Sweetling. Do you want me to stop?” 

“No Master.”

“Good!”

Lips crashed against Sansa's own in a needy kiss, she could taste cigarette smoke on his tongue and something else that was entirely unique to him, her Master. A single finger slipped past her entrance stretching his darling girl open slowly, there was no pain just pleasure wrapped in little bits of heaven. Sansa's eyes fell shut as a single finger grew to two and then three. Joffrey had never done this, never cared enough to make her feel good, but Petyr seemed to take more pleasure from the noises she let out than the actual act.  _Is this making love, like the book said?_ Sansa didn't know and it was certainly a thought for another time. She gasped when he removed his fingers in favour of licking them clean, she felt so empty without those talented fingers, yet Sansa didn't have to suffer long, with a  _tell me to stop if you don't like it_ he reached into a draw and pulled out a strange packet the likes of which  Sansa had never seen before, he opened it and rolled the condom onto his erection. Master lined himself up and filled his girl to the hilt, she was so tight, so perfect in every way that Petyr had to fight not to cum there and then. 

“Oh God, Sansa!” He moaned into her mouth. 

From the size of him Sansa had been expecting pain but there was none, just a sense of euphoria that took all thought from the redhead.

“Just follow my movements, Sweetling. You'll get it, it's natural.” 

Hands gripped either of her hips guiding her in their movements, it was new but Sansa's body seemed to know what it was doing and so she let it take over.  Petyr's back somehow found itself braced up against the wooden headboard with Sansa rocking in his lap like she would die without her Master’s cock filling her, Sansa was finally doing something for herself. She'd never expected to get a Master like Petyr Baelish, she knew he wasn't a  _good_ man but he was good to her and that was all that mattered.

Baelish breathed her in, the coconut from her shampoo, grass from her daily walks and raw musky sex, it was divine almost as if there was a celestial being in his arms. In the silvery twilight of the bedroom Petyr's fingers caressed his darling girl's milky skin as if afraid a heavier touch would shatter the magic of the moment. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, utter bliss. Each touch of skin on skin was like electricity, a frenzy of static that sailed between their bodies like a leaf in the ocean. He kissed up Sansa's jaw to her earlobe and nipped at it with want, she tasted so good. The dark-haired man was close, so caught between the intoxication of his approaching climax and extending a moment he never wanted to end. So close, so near the edge ready to plunge over the cliff into the icy depths, so close. Suddenly Sansa screamed so loud it was almost a sonic boom to his ears, he felt her walls clench around him as she came moaning and panting against his body. Petyr couldn't take it, the smell of her, the softness of her sweaty skin, the way her walls gripped his cock refusing to let go, it was all too much.

“Sansa!”

Her name was a strangled shout as he came, fingers gripping her hips so hard that they would bruise. He wasn't done though, Sansa found herself on her back with her legs spread and open mouth kisses trailing down her stomach. His tongue licked at her folds hungrily tasting the sweet flavour of his girl. Tasting her whilst in the midst his own come down made her even more tantalising. 

“Are you close again, Sweetling?” He purred. “I want to hear you. I want to hear you scream, moan and gasp to your heart's content.” 

That was what he wanted and that was just what she gave him. She cried out as another orgasm tore though her, not because he wanted it but because there wasn't a single thing powerful enough to keep her quiet. They lay there for a time panting, breathing in much needed air, sex scented air but are nonetheless.  _ I doubt therapists would approve of my actions... unless it was Hannibal Lecter,  _ Petyr thought he could get on rather well with Doctor Lecter. 

“That's my good girl. My Sweetling.” His heart rate started to slow to a more normal speed. 

“Master is too good to Sansa.” 

Baelish just chuckled.

“If I'm your Master then I can treat you as I please, and I've decided to treat you like a princess. Princess Sansa, it's got a nice ring to it.” 

To his pleasure the redhead smiled against his chest. his girl was practically glowing with ecstasy and the transcendent scent of sex clung to her heavenly form. 

“That would make Master the King.

“That's it Sansa, let's rule everything.” 

Silence hung in the air for a moment or two, his girl was practically glowing with ecstasy and the transcendent scent of sex clung to her heavenly form. Her skin was hot against his, coated in a thin layer of cooling sweat as well as something unique to her; given the choice Petyr would never let her leave his arms. He wasn't a romantic man by any means but thankfully Sansa didn't need that, she knew what he was and trusted him anyway. His girl cuddled in closer as the minutes passed them by, almost as though they existed in a void that time couldn't penetrate, he felt her heartbeat slow to a gentle rhythm in her chest that soon danced with his own. They could rule everything of that Petyr had no doubt, but she'd have to learn first.  


“I've been thinking, you're strong and intelligent. Let me teach you what I do. You're more like me than you think, don't just hide yourself away here forever. Let me teach you a skill set for an occupation that will always be called for.” 

“Killing?” She questioned quietly.

“No, not killing. That's part of what I do but only a small part. Let me teach you?”

Sansa couldn't quite decide if he was asking or begging and that was a little strange to her. She could hear his heart beating in his chest and it helped to ground her in the moment. 

“Sansa likes the idea of spending more time with Master.”

“Perfect.” He grinned. “Tell me, if you could do anything, anything at all without suffering the consequences, what would you do?”

Sansa was curious of course but caution still sped around her body and through her soul. Hesitantly she asked.

“No one would tell Sansa she couldn't?” Petyr nodded. “Then San- _I_ would ask for Master to take _me_ and Lady to the park. The television showed one.”

Petyr grinned.

“Is that really all you'd ask for? And that's not what I meant.” Petyr sighed and held his girl tighter. “Do you... do you want to make your old Master suffer for what he did to you? Do you want to make Cersei hurt for what she did to your family?” 

Silence, complete silence. Sansa bit her lip while trying to figure out how to respond, Petyr could clearly see how desperately she wanted to say yes. Yes she wanted Joffrey to hurt, she wanted Cersei to suffer; Sansa didn't need to say it he knew.

“Then we'll do it together.”

Either way Petyr would have destroyed Joffrey and his Mother but it would have been more fun with Sansa's help; more meaningful. 


	13. On The Outskirts Of Agony Sits A Fellow Who Points

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this didn't get updated yesterday but I just didn't get time.
> 
> The chapter title is a quote by Virginia Woolf
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

Orange morning light drifted to Sansa's eyes but that was not what woke her, the bedroom door was what roused her from deep slumber. The redhead was a little sore from the previous nights actions but there was no pain like all the years with Joffrey.  _ No, stop thinking of old Master. Sansa only has new Master now. No not 'new Master', just Master.  _ All thoughts were quickly silenced when she found the man in question setting a  white painted breakfast tray down before her,  the redhead had never been pampered before and it caused her to blushed uncontrollably; a tiny voice at the back of her mind kept insisting she didn't deserve any of it.  

“Here you go, told you you'd be treated like a princess.”

“Thank you, Master. Would Master like some too?”

Petyr grinned at his girl before settling down beside  her on the bed, he was clad in nothing but his night pants and Sansa liked the warmth she could feel resonating from his skin when it brushed against hers.  She watched his lips curl upwards when he stole a piece of buttered toast  and took a bite, tongue jutting out to lick the crumbs from his lips. 

“Eat Sweetling.” Petyr leaned over and kissed her forehead. “I told the office I'd work from home today and I have a lesson for you so we're going to my club.” 

Sansa reached out and took the other  slice of brown toast, it was warm and wonderful on her tongue like a waterfall of flavour. 

“ It's good, Master.” 

“I'm glad you like it. I'm going to take a shower.”

The dark-haired man pressed another kiss to his girl's forehead  and then he was gone, Sansa could hear the water running, occationally landing in large thunderous drops when he moved. The noise acted as a comfort while she ate her wonderfully prepared breakfast; eggs, bacon, toast and even a little black bowl of sliced fruit beside her orange juice glass. No one had ever brought Sansa breakfast before, she'd had scraps of food thrown at her every few days but that really couldn't count as food, especially not when she was sat before the beauty Petyr had made especially for her. The redhead ate slowly, she still wasn't used to eating proper meals despite the months of being well fed. Sansa couldn't help but feel like something had changed, not just between them but with the way Sansa saw the world, saw herself; each day more and more fear seemed to drain from her delicate body.  _ It's all because of Master.  _

When her plate had practically been licked clean  she set everything neatly on the tray and carried  it down into the kitchen, Lady trailing behind her; that dog only ever left Sansa's side when she was fed and that was how the redhead found herself walking back to the bedroom alone.  She'd stepped into the room and froze when she found her Master walking out of the bathroom, steam following close behind him. He was wet, small droplets of water dripped from his salt and pepper hair and a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist; Petyr didn't seem phased. 

“I left the water running for you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Sansa passed her Master with a little smile though she didn't look up and pushed the en suit door shut behind her. The water was warm on her skin a soothing cascade of pure liquid that washed away the layer of sweat still clinging to her pale skin from the night previous; that amazing night. Azure eyes flew open when she heard the door open and her Master re-enter the bathroom, the redhead listened past falling water to the sound of him shaving, Sansa could see a dark mass through frosted glass and knew he could see her. Suddenly over the running water and electronic buzz he spoke. 

“I got you some clothes out, Sweetling. They're on the bed for you. I hope you don't mind but I like that green dress you chose, it contrasts your eyes wonderfully.” The buzzing stopped. 

“Of course.”

Came her response as she brought her hands over her head pushing fiery hair out the way. It was still a little strange to have free access to a shower and other basic facilities, to have a bed to sleep in and real food to eat, hell, to have a dog. The shower door opened letting a cold gust of air followed her Master in, he was naked again and Sansa averted here eyes despite the acts of the night before. 

“Master will get all wet again.” 

“I don't mind.” He confessed as strong arms snaked around her and tugged his beloved redhead so her back was to his chest. Lips caressed her neck softly. “You don't have to ware the dress if you don't want.” Petyr just wanted to make sure she knew that. 

“I like that dress as well, Master.” His hand slipped down her smooth stomach and between her legs. “And San-I like that you like it.”

Nimble fingers worked quickly to bring his girl to climax, he adored the little pants she let out and the way she bit her pink bottom lip. Fingertip bruises littered the pale skin of her hips and they hurt ever so slightly but Sansa didn't care, it wasn't  _pain_ exactly so much as a reminder of the bliss her Master had given her; the same bliss his fingers wanted to show her there in the shower. 

_They don't show my Master is evil, they show he cares._

Sansa's back arched as she came, the title of  _Master_ on her lips, if she hadn't have been so lost in her high she'd have heard him growl into her neck as he licked up to her earlobe. When Sansa's legs had ceased their shaking the both of them dried off and dressed. Since Due to Sansa's mild panic attack at the sight of Lady's collar Petyr found her an old bandana he'd forgotten he had, it was blue tartan and for the life of him he couldn't remember where it came from. As soon as he got to the club he'd have Olyvar or Mads run down to the pet store and get one of those bandanas that had the fabric sewn over a collar so it actually only hid it from sight, that would do the trick. It was clear than Sansa didn't like having to put Lady on a leash when they left the house so Petyr didn't force his girl. 

Lady sat in the back seat of Petyr's beloved Aston Martin DB5 while Sansa buckled herself into the passenger seat, Petyr's mind flashed back to the first night and her terrified shivering; there was none of that left. 

She smiled a little when he clicked on the radio, her Master clearly had a thing for rock music and country rock. Sansa watched as his fingers drummed on the steering wheel and his head bobbed ever so slightly. 

_Now I'm waiting on the corner in the back of your mind_  
It's a lonely place to live, and I got nowhere to hide  
Cause you told me that you'd never be afraid of heights again  
Nobody ever thought that we could make it this high  
You're the only one I'd follow 'til the end of time  
If we fall, we fall together baby, don't think twice again  
Don't think twice again  
  
And after all these years, and all of this time  
Darling, if I'm still a question in your mind  
Just say the words and this will end  
Yeah!

Joffrey had listened so weird screaming and people who just seemed to talk over the music rather than sing, but Petyr's choices of songs had real lyrics and an actually melody rather than random sounds. Sansa definitely approved of Baelish's choices, not that she had any right, _I'm his it's not the other way round._ Even with the kindness and dare she say _love_ he showed her Sansa still saw herself as a pet, not a scared beaten animal but a pet nonetheless. 

_You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights_  
You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights   
You told me we should never be afraid of heights again  
You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights   
You told me that you'd never be afraid of heights  
If we fall, we fall together baby, don't think twice again  


Petyr noticed her watching him after a short while and quickly straightened and ceased his thumb drumming, driving with his music was the one time anyone could really  _read_ Petyr 'Littlefinger' Baelish and he didn't like it. No one should ever know what he was thinking, what he was intending to do next; others knowing was dangerous. He'd not meant to hide himself away from Sansa when he noticed her watching him, it was juts a force of habit. 

Wherever I go, wherever I go  
I hear your voice on a broken radio  
Wherever I go, wherever I go  
I know we'll burn like a rocket's afterglow  
Don't ever let go, don't ever let go  
So are we destined to hit the ground below?  
Don't ever let go, don't ever let go  
Are we just watching the final chapter close? 

When they approached The Mockingbird Petyr reached out and turned the volume down so he could speak without having to shout, loud noises still scared his girl; a week earlier he'd dropped a cardboard box of old papers over the railing of his staircase letting it fall into the vestibule and she'd screamed so loud that it had echoed around the house then hid. _No loud noises around Sansa _he'd decided after that.

“Sansa, if you get uncomfortable in there just tell me and we'll leave okay?” 

“Yes, Master.” She responded honestly. “I will.”

The redhead had been trying so very hard to use _I_ and _me_ rather than Sansa, her Master wanted her to be a person and so did she. They climbed out the car and let Lady out before going into the club, it was so much quieter than the last time she'd been there which was to be expected since it was hardly eleven o'clock and they were only just opening for deliveries. The place looked strange without all those men and half-dressed girls. Mockingbird's main entrance led into a small hallway that ran horizontal to the main door the walls were a plum purple and held a smaller version of the club sign. If one went to the right they'd find themselves in the burlesque room which consisted of a large stage facing a sea of tables and booths, as well as a black staircase that hugged the wall and lead up to a second tier of seats. There was also a small bar in there nicknamed _The Stair Cupboard_ due to the way the second tier staircase went over it. Sansa didn't know it but the next evening would pack that room out. 

If one turned to the left thought they'd find the main body of the club, the purple and black theme continued as well. It let out into a large room filled with a sea of booths, some of which had burlesque poles in the middle while others just had tables, Petyr had catered to everything and it had turned out rather nicely. There was a smaller stage in the far right corner for little performances, usually singers that were set up with all the lights anyone could ever need, diagonally across from it on the other side of the room from the entrance was Petyr's office door marked simply with _Owner,_ besides which was another staircase that led up to the _private rooms_ and everyone knew what happened up there. That office remained locked unless Littlefinger himself was in it. Lastly was the most eye-catching thing in the room, a large circular bar made of black granite in the very centre, it had a more Gothic finish than the rest of The Mockingbird, save for the chandlers. The black bar was also where a certain blonde Petyr had been looking for stood; Olyvar. The young blonde rested behind the bar with his back to them wiping it down with a cloth. 

“Shouldn't the bartenders have done that last night?” The owner asked.

“They did, I spilt my coffee is all.” Oly turned while discarding the cloth and finally noticed Sansa. “Hello again,  _ Alayne.”  _

Sansa looked intently at Lady who had sat by her black ballerina shoe clad feet, she wanted to stay like that, blue eyes locked on the floor and her beloved Lady but that was not what her Master wanted. No, Petyr wanted Sansa to be brave like he knew she really was and that thought alone was the only reason the redhead managed to tilt her head up, not looking at Olyvar but it was better than the floor. 

“Hello.” She managed to greet, quietly but politely.

Petyr took Sansa by the hand to led her and Lady to the bar stools. Sansa sat with her back to his office and watched as he walked behind the bar and helped himself to a glass of bourbon, the amber liquid splashing into the glass with gusto. _No one ever said it had to be five in the evening _he thought to himself.

“Oly, is that last nights profits book I see dripping with coffee?”

“Em, yeah, sorry Boss.” He shook the black book off and handed it over to Littlefinger. “I was going to keep hold of it until you came in but then I showered everything with coffee.” 

Petyr set it down on the bar and opened it up to read, The Mockingbird had survived another long night and had made the largest profit of the whole week it seemed. He reached out for his bourbon glass but found Sansa tracing her fingers around the rim and the decorative cut outs in the glass. 

“You've never had bourbon have you, Sweetling?” 

Sansa shook her head slowly fully aware of Olyvar's presence and the few other members of staff dotted around the building preparing for the evening. 

“Here.” He slid the glass towards her. “Take a sip.”

The redhead obeyed, picking the glass up with both hands and bringing it up to her nose, it didn't smell nice to her far too bitter but maybe it tasted better... it didn't. The second Sansa swallowed the tiny sip of it she was coughing and set the glass down. Petyr and Oly laughed but not with malice. 

“Not a bourbon girl then.” He surmised. “Good, you're far too sweet for it.”

Then he was moving, pulling bottles off of the shelf behind him and lining them up on the bar top. Sansa watched with great curiosity along with Oly as Petyr tipped ice into a tall glass and then measured out a pale red liquid and tipped it into the glass. It was then that he started to speak. 

“Syrup goes in over the ice, then a little club soda.” Petyr filled the glass about half way. “Give it a stir.” He crouched down out of sight for a second or two before coming back up with an unopened pot of cream, tipping the glass on its side he started to fill the rest of the glass up. “Add a straw and there you go. Sweet and red just like you.”

The glass was slid forwards to Sansa who looked at it curiously. 

“Watermelon Italian cream soda. No alcohol.” He announced as Sansa took a sip, swirling the straw around to mix it the cream a little at a time. 

“It's really good.” His girl beamed.

“I didn't know you could tend a bar. I mean yeah Italian cream soda is really simple but you seem like more of a _open the whiskey bottle and drink it_ type of guy.”

Sansa continued drinking the watermelon concoction happily, it had the texture of a milkshake, which they'd discovered she loved early on. 

“A good boss knows every aspect of his business, and when I was young I spent three years tending a bar to put myself through school.”

It was safe for Olyvar to have that bit of information, none of it could be used to hurt him or Sansa. 

“Thank you, Master.”

“ _Master._ ” Olyvar mumbled under his breath in a tone that said _why am I not surprised?_

“Haven't you got something  to be doing Oly?” Petyr suddenly said, he heard everything that went on in his club, _everything._ “And where is Ros?”

“Ros said she'd be late in.”

“She lives in the apartment upstairs.” Petyr deadpanned. 

 

“Yeah, but that's not the bed she woke up in.” The blonde grinned wickedly.

Petyr mumbled something along the lines of _for God's sake_ before walking back out from behind the bar, picking up his coffee stained black book and bourbon glass.

“Come on,  Sweetling.” 

Sansa hopped off the chair with her drink and followed her Master towards his office with Lady at her side. 

Olyvar watched them go until Mads leaned on the bar, he wore tight black pants from which a chain hung, and a coal pinstriped waistcoat that showed off his tanned muscled arms. His dark blonde hair was messy like he'd just gotten out of bed, which knowing Mads was highly possible, and dark liner under his hazel eyes. It was all very nineteen-twenties. Beside him stood another man in the employ of one Petyr Baelish, this one was a little younger and rather a lot shorter than his six-foot-three friend, maybe five-foot-ten at most but no more, by the name of Dimitri. His jet black hair was all spiked up at the front and highlighted a little with dark blue, Dimitri was the joker on staff and everyone loved his young appearance. He was dressed in a plain fitted white tank and a pair of tight grey-silver slacks held up by bright blue suspenders. Just like Mads he wore eye-liner and it caused his impossibly emerald eyes and porcelain skin to really  _pop._

“Whose the girl?” Mads asked with an accent.

“Yeah, we'd know if we were getting a new girl and she looks pretty _his._ ” Added Dimitri with a sly grin. 

“That boys, would be Alayne. She's the bosses niece.” 

Suddenly Mads and Dimitri erupted with laughter. 

“There is no way in hell something that hot is related to Baelish unless he married into the family.” Said the accented voice. 

Olyvar laughed because that was exactly what he'd said when Petyr had told him. 

Meanwhile on the other side of Petyr's office door he'd seated himself behind his desk and Sansa had let him pull her to sit on his lap; Lady had settled herself down on the large black leather couch to their right. Her drink was half gone by now and she wore a questioning expression on her face as he tip-tapped on his laptop. 

“Go on and ask, I know you want to.” Said the older man, stormy eyes never drifting from the laptop screen.

“Why are we here, Master?”

Petyr grinned upon hearing the word _we_ come out of her mouth and turned to face his girl.

“Well, since finding you I've neglected my club a little.” He began calmly. “I also thought a change of scenery would be nice for you.” He took a breath. “I said I'd teach you what I do and this is the best place for lesson one, at noon several businessmen will come in here for their _lunch meetings_ but not as many people as in the evening. I don't want you crowded or frightened.”

“What will San-I be learning, Master?” She asked.

“People.” He answered simply “People and their motives, what drives them, what can be used to exploit them. It will be best to teach you here because they'll all be otherwise occupied.” 

“With girls?” It was an almost silent question.

“Yes, Sweetling. Men too. Do you remember what I told you about the people who work here?” 

“Yes Master. They aren't forced, it's their job.”

“Good girl.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went back to what he was doing, Sansa didn't mind she liked the quiet and just being close to him;  _Master is so kind._ That was only a half truth, he was kind but only to her. Only to his darling girl with bright red hair and dazzling blue eyes that any man could get lost in; if she'd make eye contact that was. It saddened him to think she may never look him in the eyes, not just because of how beautiful they were but because it would be something Joffrey had taken from her forever. Joffrey Baratheon was one hell of a bastard, in both senses of the word. 

Time passed and Lady had dozed off long ago, Sansa wasn't far behind her but with a kiss to her forehead Petyr had his girl awake again. His laptop screen was black and his arms had circled her keeping the redhead close to his suit clad chest, he smelt divine and Sansa couldn't help but trace the silver mockingbird pin on his lapel. Petyr hated when people did that, beyond basic sexual needs he didn't much like being touched at all, but with Sansa he couldn't bring himself to care; she was the only one whose touch he welcomed. 

“It's gone noon, Sweetling.” He told her after pressing another kiss to her forehead, that was becoming a habit. “I think it's time your lesson began.” 

Petyr swiveled his chair round to look at his CCTV cameras,  _ can't have Joffrey or anyone from Lion and Stag here to gossip about my beautiful young redhead now can we? _ Seeing the coast was clear Petyr pushed her up onto her feet and lead her out of the office leaving the growing wolfdog asleep on his couch. 

The VIP lounge was empty, always was at the lunch opening it only got busy after dark, that was where he decided he and Sansa would sit. It was raised a little from the rest of main club and had a waist-high purple railing keeping the riff-raff out, it would do nicely to give Sansa a good look at the customers while keeping her far away from them. He fell down onto the soft purple chair and pulled Sansa down beside him. 

“No one will talk to you if you stay here with me.” He told her and Sansa took a little comfort in that. “Sweetling, I need you to look at them, really _look_ and tell me what you see.”

Sansa's blue eyes passed over the club taking in what everyone was doing, Olyvar was straddling a man who looked old enough to be her Master's father and yet had a smile on his face. She could see a lot of that. There was an utterly beautiful woman with mocha skin behind the bar along with a pale skinned woman with pink tails, a few men seemed to be talking to them rather than ordering drinks. 

“Men who want... _that.”_ She finally responded and Petyr snorted. 

“Well yes, but it's more than that Sansa.” He looked down at the top of her red hair since she wouldn't show him her eyes. “I see puppets, each and every single one of them, even the staff, a puppet and who do you think is the puppet master?” 

“You?” He nodded.

“You have to see what they want and give it to them, or at least make them _think_ you gave it to them. This is what I do, before anything else I learn everything about what they want.”

“San-I thought Master killed and hid people.” Her voice was a little timid with that sentence.

“I do, but you need to learn how to act around others before you kill anyone.” He looked around his club floor for a second and then pointed casually. “Tell me about her.”

Sansa followed his finger to see a tanned woman with long black hair, she straddle a younger man in a loose blue shirt and wore next to nothing yet it wasn't vulgar. 

“She's confident.” Said Sansa. 

“Good. That's good, keep going.” Her Master encouraged.

Sansa was determined to make her Master proud and forced herself to just  _see._

“The man she's with... he doesn't scare her. Even though he wants... wants to use her. Use her like old Master did, not giving like new Master.” She paused for a moment to push away thoughts of  Joffrey Baratheon. “He keeps saying things and gesturing like he's trying to explain. Does she not understand him, Master?” 

“Very perceptive.” He praised. “But you're looking more at him than her. She pretends not to understand the local tongue, it makes her seem more exotic. You can see it in her eyes, the understanding in them. It's in the way she speaks as well, it's slow and calculated as though she doesn't know how to pronounce the words and yet all per pauses are in the wrong place. It's not a lack of understanding, it's her spinning a tale.” Sansa took in every word and committed it to memory as best she could, he was taking the time to teach her something and Sansa would happily learn it. “Alright, what can you tell me about Oly?” 

Olyvar had moved from the old man and was now stood by the bar kissing a curly-haired blonde similar to him in age; Sansa didn't know but his name was Loras Tyrell. 

“He's kissing another _man,_ Mast-”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Petyr asked with curiosity.

“No, Master. They look happy. Old Master said that was wrong, disgusting. He called them fag-”

“Don't say that, Sweetling.” He cut her off again. “It won't end well if anyone hears you say it, and if you have no problem with it then there is no reason for a word so vulgar to come from such pretty lips.” 

Petyr hated that so much destruction had been caused by the gender of who people fucked rather than _who_ they fucked. Secrets had so much more power than gender. Just went to show how most people focused on the entirely unimportant things.

“Why is it vulgar, Master?” She asked.

Petyr thought for a moment, how should he put it so she'd understand?

“It makes them feel like Joffrey made you feel when he called you _pet_ or _slut_.”

Sansa understood, those words had sometimes hurt more than the beatings and cuts. Her Master was write about one thing, words often held more power than actions. 

“Okay Master, San-I won't say it.”

“Good girl, don't want you getting hurt.”

The lesson continued and Petyr was rather pleased to find she was a fast learner, after hours of practice, she was sporadically picking out little details that were not obvious upon first glance. They took a brake after that and Petyr made her another Italian cream soda which she was greatly appreciative of; he thought maybe he'd found her new favourite drink. As he returned a young man in a scruffy suit nearly walked into him and Petyr instantly knew this one would really test Sansa's new skill. Once the drink was in her hands and Littlefinger had sat by her side he set her on the new target. 

“He's new, never been here before. What can you tell me about him?”

Again she followed his finger to a tall man with brown hair and a well cared for beard.

“He looks nervous and he likes Mads.” She observed, but there was more to it than that. It had surprised her at how quickly she was learning what his staff looked like and their names. “There's a line on his finger that he keeps rubbing. Master, what is that?” 

“It's were his wedding ring should be.” 

“He's nervous but I don't know why.” Sansa was a little upset that she couldn't read him like her Master wanted but he didn't seem angry or disappointed. 

“I'll tell you then. He looks to work in an office from his clothes but they aren't that expensive so he's not an executive or anywhere near the top. There's a stain over the back of his shoulder that he's tried to clean off and he looks exhausted, which means he likely has a new baby. As you say he's nervous and from the fact he's taken his wedding ring off I'd say he doesn't want his wife to know he's here looking at men or to be reminded that he's married. Seeing the ring on his finger most likely makes him feel guilty and he keeps rubbing his finger because he's used to wearing it.” They watched Mads entertain the man for a moment before Petyr moved on to the next topic. “You did very well, Sansa. Very well, I didn't expect you to pick it up quite this quickly. It's getting late though and more people will come in now it's getting dark.” 

Suddenly a muscular man with no shirt, short dirty blonde hair and bold green eyes was by their side, Sansa hadn't seen much of him throughout the afternoon and only had a vague memory of him taking an older woman with red hair upstairs; the only reason she remembered it at all was because Petyr had cringed and shrunk down until he was sure she'd gone. 

“Boss, your dog is scratching at your office door and barking.” They'd not heard Lady over the music. “Think it wants to go out. And Lysa Arryn is asking for you- well  _demanding_ you- again. I told her you were at Lion and Stag and she seemed to accept it after a while, too drunk to notice you sat right there.” 

“Thank you, Jeremy.”

Sansa frowned, _why did the name Lysa sound so familiar? _It was her Master's voice to pull her back from her thoughts.

“What do you say we go and get Lady then go to the park like you wanted?”

Sansa grinned, thoughts of the Lysa Arryn person completely gone. 

“I'd like that.”

With that they went back to his office for Lady.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Afraid Of Heights by Billy Talent


	14. Weep Little Lion Man

With Lady safely in the back of his car once more and Sansa strapped into the seat beside him Petyr drove towards the park, another song drifting from the stereo. 

_Forty days of rain._  
Forty nights it poured.  
I can't take it anymore,  
it's getting overboard.  
I lean forward.  
Wandered through mountains,  
ran through valley's so low.  
Been down the road less traveled,  
a million times before.  
Went through hell to find my heaven,  
crossing up my lines.  
Went through hell to find my heaven,  
fighting for my life.

 

What was left of the days light was quickly being obliterated by dark night, a canopy of luminous celestial stars floated amongst an ocean of blackness. Some were dull, nothing more than flickering every now and then as a nothing but reminder they were there, while others were bold and bright like a proud knight going into battle. Where once had hung magenta and purple was now inky and coal, the sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed all of King's Landing as though Westeros had been swallowed whole by some kind of leviathan. 

 

 _Ten floors down,_  
I dove into the night.  
The stars were in my eyes. I scream,  
come on, hit me more.  
Broken by the sound.  
Blinded by the light.  
You say it's do or die, I scream,  
come on, hit me more  
There's a choice to be made,  
come on, what you waiting for.  
Is that all you got?  
Come on, hit me more.  
  
"Float like a butterfly, Sting like a bee."  
I want you to give me, your best Mohammed Ali  
I lean forward

 

Sansa liked the melody of his latest song choice, it was catchy and memorable, the male singers voice was a pleasurable accompaniment to the dark depths of the evening.  A lively tempo that lifted them; elevate the spirit. Petyr had never let Sansa stay out this late and it amazed her at the way King's Landing lit up at night it was as if the city had become a beacon. 

“... come on hit me more.” Sansa paused at that, _is Master singing?_ Yes, yes he was.“... that all you got. Come on hit me more.” Definitely singing and from the mouse like volume of it he wasn't aware his singing had gone from mental to verbal. It wasn't actually half bad.

His mumbled singing came to an abrupt stop when he parked his Aston in the parking lot attached to the place Sansa so wanted to go; Lady seemed to perk up too. 

Lady was soon on her blue leather leash happily wandering through the park investigating all the new smells, Sansa hated having to put Lady on a leash but knowing it didn't hurt the Wolfdog and that it would soon come off comforted her. There were a couple of other late night dog walkers as well and Sansa found herself thinking that each animal they passed was cuter than the last, especially the little golden puppy that her Master said was a Retriever. 

The inky evening was cool and Petyr enjoyed the silence and the content smile that coated Sansa's lips; he was the one to have made her happy and he knew that no one else could have done that. After a time he found himself with sinister thoughts and started to wonder how quickly he could teach his redhead all she needed to know, the idea of her helping kill Joffrey sounded so good to him. However, all thoughts of Joffrey Lannister and death faded from his mind as the parks large pond came into view, it was either a very large pong or a tiny lake Petyr wasn't entirely certain, Sansa adored looking out over the cliffs to see the ocean so he'd known she'd love this. As expected her eyes lit up and even though none of that azure light graced his face Petyr knew they were beautiful. Silvery moonlight bounced from the water's surface with a deep blue glow, the universe did that just for her he decided; to match her eyes. 

He let her walk Lady for as long as she liked, even after the Wolfdog had grown bored and longed for the large dog bed Baelish had purchased for her; as long as his girl was happy he'd let her drag the tired dog about. He was thankful when she finally yawned because  he'd long ago joined Lady in wanting to go home. 

“I think we should go back to the house, Sweetling.” He told her softly, placing a hand on her shoulder to guide her in the direction of his grey Aston Martin. “You sound tired.” 

For a reason Sansa couldn't understand the walk back to the car hadn't taken as long as the one away from the Aston, yet the red-headed girl didn't think too much about it. Lady jumped into the small back seat and let Petyr take her leash off once he'd opened the door for her while Sansa buckled herself in and waited patiently looking up at the supernatural crescent moon. She felt the car wobble a little when he shut his door and couldn't help but smile as he brushed a little none existent dust from the dashboard. 

“Master,” She began. “why do you have this car and the other one? They're not like other cars I've seen. You don't normally show off with _thing_ s, you do it with what you say.” Six weeks ago Sansa never would have been confident enough to say that. “You have nice things of course but-” 

“The Aston Martin DB5 is the classic bond car.” He stated like being abused from the age of eight was no reason not to know that. “Everyone loves this car! And as for my DBS I was going to get it anyway but then the other James Bond movie came out and just made it better. I thought about a Bond car collection for a while. My cars are God damn icons.” He grinned. “We all have to indulge somewhere, Sansa. It's true I indulge more than most but I love my cars.” 

“Okay.” She acknowledged. “But Master... who is James Bond?”

Petyr felt his blood pressure sky rocket and for a second thought he'd pass out, then he realised he wasn't talking to a arrogant teenager, she'd spend most of her life chained to a bed; of course she didn't know about movies and Ian Fleming novels.  

“Alright, we're getting Chinese take out and you're watching the classics. It's my fault, I didn't educate you.”

Sansa giggled, she knew she'd started something he was passionate about and instantly knew this _education_ as he put it was going to take up the next few days; not that she mined in the slightest. _Note to self, never bring up Master's cars again._

 

XXXX

 

Two days or so passed by and with each twenty-four hours the weather grew hotter, gold sun dominated the sky and jumping into the ocean was beginning to look pretty good to Sansa; or at least it would have if she could swim. That cloudless day Petyr had moved on to lesson two which had brought them out into Petyr's back yard, he called it the back yard but there wasn't another house around for a good five mile and no fence in sight,  _back yard_ just seemed to referred to the grassy area between his beautifully cared for patio and the cliffs. About thirty feet from the patio Petyr had set up a small table that had been covered over with several guns of varying size, that was the most description Sansa could muster, and boxes of ammunition; rested on the very end on one of the boxes was Copper. With it's back to the far off cliffs stood a large human silhouette paper target with several others on the floor waiting to replace it. 

Lady had wanted to come with Sansa and the dark-haired man but for obvious reasons Petyr had refused and instead tied her leash to one of the heavy metal chairs that called his luxury patio home. Sansa had been surprised when he'd said her next lesson was to be firing a weapon but he'd seemed confident that she could pick it up and his faith in the redhead had given her the boost she'd needed. Sometime she found herself wondering if he had any idea just how much confidence he gave her. 

Petyr wore a pair of plain black slacks and oxfords with a dark green polo shirt that showed off his surprisingly toned and muscular arms. The scent of fresh cigarette smoke lightly drifted from his skin without being overpowering and Sansa was beginning to rather enjoy that smell; she adored the way he tasted of smoke and whiskey when he kissed her.  The redhead herself wore black converse as well as a sleeveless top made of a thin orange fabric with a jewelled neckline and a high-low hem, matched with it was a pair of black sailor shorts the buttons to which were bright silver. Sansa had been nervous about wearing shorts at first because of the scars on her legs but as her body had started to tan ever so slightly she'd found them fading a little which had been a God send to her. It was just them and Lady there, no one else, so that was a second boon. 

“I'm starting you with a Glock 29.” He began slowly so his girl could keep up. “Now, this is going to be loud when it's fired but you can't go dropping it to cover your ears, it's not a toy.” He seemed please when she nodded, eyes locked on the weapon in his hands. “Good girl. Alright, the 29 weighs about twenty-seven ounces when unloaded, that's this section.” Petyr held up the Glock minus its magazine, tilting it to prove to her that it was indeed unloaded. “This is where the extra weight comes from.” He held up the magazine that he'd had her load earlier. “Do you follow so far?” 

“Yes, Master.” She said still looking at the Glock. “It's loud and heavy but I can't drop it.”

Petyr nodded and then continued, out of the corner of his eye he could see Lady pulling on her leash to be with Sansa but the metal chair remained unmoving. 

“Here are your sights, this is what helps you to aim. You'll line these up with your target which will be our paper friend over there. The basics are essentially point and shoot, we'll work you up from there.”

“Alright Master.”

“The magazine,” He held up said item. “slides in like this and now you have a loaded weapon. When it's loaded you point it at no one unless you want them dead.” He seemed to stress that fact. “To release the mag just press this little button and it slides straight back out.” Sansa watched patiently as he moved to face the paper target. “Take the safety off like so, aim but don't hold your breath, and fire.”

What followed was the loudest noise Sansa had ever heard and it made her jump out of her skin almost, when he'd said loud she hadn't quite expected that, at the same time there was something familiar about it and thoughts of her parents filled Sansa's head but she pushed them away just as quickly as they'd appeared.  Looking over to the target Sansa could easily see a small hole that let gold light through in the silhouettes head. 

“That's what I'm going to teach you. Would you like a go, Sweetling?” He asked with a smile, gun lowered to face the ground.

As soon as she nodded Petyr was ushering her towards him, once she was no more than a step from him he kissed her forehead and handed her the Glock. It was heavy just as he'd said but Sansa was determined to make him proud, she wouldn't cover her ears, she wouldn't jump again, and she certainly would drop the weapon. Quickly and skilfully he moved her into the correct stance while going over everything again in a bullet point version.

“Ready?”

With that one word Sansa knew that if she said  _no_ or that she was scared he'd take the gun from her and  wait as long as she needed before bringing it near her again. None of that was needed though, Sansa was ready. 

“Yes.”

“Alright then, when you're ready and remember what I told you about breathing this morning.”

Sansa did exactly that, she was nervous but knew her Master was there behind her; her safety net. Petyr waited patiently as she prepared herself and smiled seeing the determination on her face. A few seconds later  the gun went off again. _Bang!_ Her heart bounced around her chest cavity like a scattering cat but to her pleasure she didn't jump, scream or drop it. Petyr's arms came up behind her and took the gun before they both looked over to the target. 

“Em, Sweetling. Remind me never to piss you off, I like my cock where it is.”

Looking up at the target blue eyes realised what he was talking about, she'd hit the target... but in the crotch and she could feel her Master cringe a little.

“Sorry, Master.”

“Don't be, some men completely deserve a bullet to the dick.” He told her nonchalantly. “You hit the target and if anyone was still coming at you after _that_ they're not human.”

Time ticked by quickly after that, Petyr guided her through every single step, corrected her when needed and showered his girl with encouragement at every opportunity. The late afternoon sun cast a heated glow over Baelish's house, well his and Sansa's home now, rays travelling through a crystal clear sky. Grass was warm to the touch and Lady had gone through two bowls of water before taking a nap under the large metal chair in the shade, they'd heard her snoring at one point. Sansa could hear waves crash delicately against the not to far cliffs and hear birds chirping in the trees, at least she could until her Master's cellphone started ringing. He answered on the second ring. 

“Yes, Gwendolyn?”

Sansa found herself wondering who this woman was,  _it's not jealousy he's just never mentioned her._ Sansa tried to convince herself and failed. There was talking on the other end of the line that she couldn't quite here and then the older man started to speak again.

“Now? It's Sunday even Cersei isn't at Lion and Stag.” There was more muffled talking and Petyr sighed. “Fine. I'm sorry Tywin bothered you on a Sunday, how is Lukas?” 

Petyr didn't give a damn but asked anyway, he listened patiently as Gwendolyn told him of her autistic son and the picnic she and her husband had taken him on before hanging up the phone. 

“Sweetling, I'm sorry but I have to go to work. Tywin has called a meeting about the company we're taking over. I'll be back in an hour or so, two max.” 

“Okay, Master.” She didn't want him to go but knew he had too, it was his job after all. “Shall I clean this up?” A hand gestured to the table of guns.

“Em, nothing is loaded so yes, but do it slowly and carefully. Set it out on my office floor and I'll put it all back in it's proper place when I get back.” He kissed her forehead and turned to leave as he reached the patio he petted Lady's head and then called out to his girl. “Sansa, you can let Lady off her leash now.” 

With that he was gone, back to the world of Petyr Baelish CFO rather than Petyr Baelish her Master. 

 

XXXX

 

 

The boardroom was where Petyr found himself a short time late. It was large and painted a nondescript grey, one wall was entirely glass that looked out over the financial district of King's Landing while the other grey walls were decorated in little bits of artwork, no one had ever really looked at them before so no one knew what they were paintings of. In the centre was a large rectangular table made of glass with black leather chairs flanking either side and a single one with it's back to the windows at the tables head; Petyr often wondered if a ultraviolet light would reveal the words  _ property of Tywin Lannister.  _

When he entered he discovered Varys was already there along with Pycelle, both were in their usual suits and Petyr was thankful he'd decided to don his own. Pycelle was Lion and Stag's CLO or Chief Legal Officer, the one responsible  for overseeing and identifying any and all legal issues in all departments of Tywin's company, and Petyr bloody hated him. He was so slow and constantly dancing around what he was trying to say. Varys as CHRO didn't have to be in most meetings that Tywin himself called, he dealt with people not actual business matters but Baelish was certain the bald man knew more than he let on. 

Once upon a time he'd have found Tyrion Lannister there too as CMO, Chief Marketing Officer, Tyrion knew how to sell anything to anyone, he could make most people think whatever he wanted them to and hardly say a word; yet the little lion was gone and had been for years. Petyr actually missed the youngest Lannister child, he was the only one with intellect unlike his sister who just liked to think she was the smartest person in the room; Jaime didn't pretend to be a genius and that was the only reason Petyr could ever even think of having a shred of respect for the man. Cersei had taken over Tyrion's role after chasing him away but she wasn't any good at it, in fact the only reason Cersei was still at Lion and Stag was because she carried the name Lannister. 

_Speak of the devil._ Cersei entered the room a few steps behind her father and was followed by her blonde bastard of a son who tapped away on his phone. All three slumped down into their chairs; Tywin at its head with his daughter and grandson on either side of him, Petyr sat between the lioness and Varys while Pycelle was forced to flank Joffrey.  _Serves the fucker right,_ thought Baelish. 

“As you all know, Jaime is in Dorne to begin discussions for taking over  Vaith Incorporated.  Currently Daeron Vaith is looking through every single thought to try and avoid our takeover but from what Ja im e has told me Vaith has no chance. We will have Vaith Incorporated for our own.” 

“Oberyn Martell is not going to like this.” Said Pycelle. “He controls almost everything in Dorne.” 

“To be perfectly honest we don't give a damn.” Cersei hissed.

“Cersei do shut up.” Tywin growled before turning his attention to his CFO. “Baelish what is the finances looking like on this?” 

Petyr leaned forwards a little letting his fingers rest in a pyramid and cleared his throat,  _ I'd rather be with Sansa.  _

“Lion and Stag either owns or holds the majority share in several powerful companies throughout Westorose and with young Joffrey's engagement to Margery Tyrell I'm sure we'll soon control them as well. Due to this there isn't a single issue with funds. I've looked it over and buying Vaith Incorporated won't make a dent in our resources.” He explained while mentally killing Joffrey with his own phone, that bloody beeping was beginning to piss him off. “The biggest issue will be that the company is bankrupt and in debt up to it's tits.” Joffrey snorted. “ Which means we'll have to pay off its debt fast. Once that's done and the company is back up with _real_ management we should be able to remake our losses in six to eight months.”

“So soon?” Asked Cersei sceptically. 

“I agree, after all that legal action you think a few months will do it?” Muttered Pycelle. 

“If you leave it to me then yes, six to eight months.” He shot back with his trademark smug smile. “I and Varys can work together to re-staff, he has the resources to get the staff and I know where the best executive are to be plucked from other companies.” 

Suddenly Varys who had been so quiet started to speak. 

“If we bring in younger staff for the basic bottom of the pit jobs we won't have to pay them very much. I'm sure we can leave Jaime there as acting CEO until things are running smoothly and then he can return to King's Landing. There's no use getting new high level executives until we've recouped our losses when we can do everything from here and channel it though Jaime in Dorne.”

A scowl of hatred came from Cersei and if looks could kill they all would have been attending Varys' funeral the next day, the beautiful blonde hated to be apart from her beloved brother but Tywin had insisted that Jaime went. The Lannister patriarch wasn't stupid he knew there was more than just brotherly and sisterly love going on there. 

“Excellent- Joffrey are you listening to any of this?” Asked the elder blonde. 

“What?” The twenty year old looked up at his grandfather. “Why should I have to listen to this? It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are Vice President of this entire company-”

“I have more important things to do.” Joffrey complained loudly. 

Varys couldn't help but mumbled under his breath exactly what the rest of them were thinking. 

“Yes, drugs.”

Tywin sighed, everyone was far too lenient on that bastard of a boy especially his mother, who just seemed to let him do whatever he wanted. One day it would all come crashing down and Petyr would make sure he was the one to do it; Sansa would be by his side when the downfall came. 

Pycelle opened his mouth to speak but he never got that far because Roose Bolton beat him to it. The tall balding man stood with his arms folded over his chest and his back rested against the boardroom door. 

“If we can get back to business.” Roose wasn't one for pleasantries. “As head of security-”

“What do you want Bolton?” Cersei demanded. “This is a private meeting for high level executives.” 

“Hmm.” It was obvious to everyone that Bolton wasn't a fan of the lioness. “I need to speak to Tywin and since Baelish was here too I thought I'd pop in.” Roose pushed off the door frame and came further into the room. “As of late my security team has been stretched rather thin and I need more men.”

“How about you stop complaining and just do your job?” Cersei bit out.

“The budget allows for more men and Roose is right since moving the men around headquarters has been stretched.” Petyr said calmly earning himself a glare from the lioness. 

“There are plenty. This building has a small army.”

“I want to bring my son and his men in to rebuild our numbers. We can have Ramsay's men act as night security otherwise from the hours my men are working there's going to be no one to hold your vault.”

“Bolton makes a valid point, Cersei.” Her father began in a tone that said _just stay quiet and look pretty._ “We can't have anyone getting into my vault.”

If there was one place Tywin didn't want the wrong people going it was his personal vault, that was where he kept the records to his  _other_ business, it was all in codes with a keyword that only he knew but still, extra security couldn't hurt.

“Pycelle I suggest that you start vetting Ramsay's men.” Petyr smiled but Pycelle didn't look too impressed. 

“Very well, Bolton have your son compile a list of his men and give them to my assistant. Now, if there is nothing else, Bolton. Get out.”

With a grumble Roose left, the door slamming shut behind him. 

“Two Boltons Gods help us all.” Mumbled Cersei. 

Joffrey abruptly stood and stormed out words of anger on his lips that no one could make out beyond their obvious anger. Petyr nor any of the other executives seemed to care what it was about, not even Cersei herself. 

“Varys I want you and Baelish to figure out how much Martell already knows about us taking over Vaith Incorporated.” 

“Of course.” Said Varys' cool and calm voice. 

 

“I think that's about everything, so we're done here.”

That was as much of a _thanks for coming in on your Sunday off_ as Tywin Lannister ever gave,  no one really expected anything else at this point in their careers and were just pleased to be dismissed. 

Finally Petyr could go back to his girl. 

 

XXXX

 

The Aston Martin DBS pulled up outside his home, late afternoon sun bouncing off the hood, Petyr silenced the cars purr and stepped out. A cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, it nearly fell to the floor when he looked up to find the last person in the world he'd expected see stood outside his front door. Was a quiet afternoon with Sansa too much to ask? Lady was growling inside the house, a warning to the blonde outside his house. Said man spun round. 

“Ahh there you are, Petyr. I've been stood here for fifteen fucking minutes, and when did you get a dog?” 

“Tyrion Lannister as I live and breathe.” Petyr took the last drag of his cigarette and then threw the but to the floor crushing it under his foot. “You said you wouldn't be back in King's Landing until next month.” 

“Well, things change.” He said dismissively. “Now would you please let me in? I need to take a piss.”

“Fine, but don't make an sudden movements or a dog is going to rip your balls off.” 

Petyr stepped in front of the little lion and opened up the front door, walking inside he found Lady ready to pounce. 

“Lady sit!”

The wolfdog obeyed instantly knowing her Master was no threat, her snarl faded away and her eyes grew loving again. Petyr petted her head. 

“Christ that thing is bigger than I am.” Exclaimed Tyrion, Petyr just chuckled. 

“Tyrion this is Lady. Don't piss her off because she _will_ use you as a chew toy.”

Petyr wasn't joking, he'd helped Sansa to train her and Lady would protect Sansa at all cost. The dark-haired man had never been one for pets but Lady seemed to be the exception and Petyr had actuality grown rather fond of her. 

“Message received.” Tyrion's words pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Although, Petyr Baelish named his dog  _Lady_?”

“I didn't name her.”

“Then who did?”

He responded absent-mindedly while walking further into the vestibule and letting the front door close behind himself and the Lannister, Petyr wasn't stupid, he knew exactly where Sansa was; hiding up the stairs that curled around the wall just out of sight. 

“Sweetling, could you come down here please.” It wasn't a question. “It's alright, the imp won't hurt you.”

Tyrion's bold eyes watched as pale feet appeared on the stairs, cautiously taking each step slowly  and one at a time, feet led to pale legs covered in little scars that were half faded and finally bold red hair. The color of fire and rubies blazing into his soul like something otherworldly. The instant that she reached the bottom step Sansa positioned herself to hide behind her Master as though he were a shield. Lady padded over to her Mistress and sat beside her.

“Is she-” Tyrion couldn't say it, couldn't... couldn't... just _couldn't_.

“If you're trying to ask me if she's a certain Stark... yes, she is.” Petyr turned to his girl. “Sansa Sweetling, could you say _hello_ to Tyrion for me?” 

Tyrion had never heard Baelish so calm and kind  before , it was almost as though he were a different man. The young woman's eyes never left the dark floor, one hand gripped Baelish's suit jacket and the other rested on Lady's head. Hesitantly the young woman started to stutter.

“H... H... Hello... Tyrion.” 

“Hello Sansa.” The dwarf breathed.

“Sweetling, Tyrion will be staying with us for a little while. He wasn't meant to show up for another month so that's why I didn't tell you. Is it okay?” 

Sansa knew Petyr would kick Tyrion out in an instant if she said no, he'd do anything for her. However, her Master wouldn't have let the small man anywhere near her if Tyrion was dangerous. 

“Yes, Master.”

The blonde raised an eyebrow at that particular word.

“Good girl. Why don't you take Lady and go draw me something? Maybe another one of Lady?”

“Okay Master.”

She beamed and then took Lady off into the house, Tyrion didn't know to where. The blonde waited until he thought the young woman was out of earshot before uttering another word.

“ _Master_?”

Petyr didn't answer to begin with, in fact he sighed.

“Settle in and take that piss you wanted, then I'll fill you in on that long story.”

Tyrion carried a dark green duffel bag, that had previously gone unnoticed, and followed Petyr up the stairs and through Baelish's home. The blonde man couldn't help but take in Littlefinger's décor, the man certainly liked purple. The guest room he showed Tyrion to was the same one that he'd slept in on Sansa's first night there, not that the Lannister knew any of that of course, the little lion dumped his bag on the bed and turned back to the Cleaner. 

“Once you're settled come down to my office, it's down the stairs and to the right. I'll put dinner on.”

After that Petyr was gone nothing to suggest he'd ever been there save for the light footsteps leading away down the hall. Tyrion had a lot of questions and that may have been the understatement of the year, Sansa wasn't dead. His sister hadn't killed all the Starks which meant she'd done something far worse to the beautiful redhead. Yes, Tyrion Lannister certainly had questions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Lyrics are Hit Me More by Scott Sapp


	15. The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than my usual ones but it's a sort of filler chapter so I can explain some little details.

Tyrion Lannister found himself outside Petyr's home office just after the sun set with thousands of questions on his lips. Petyr had seated at his desk typing away on his laptop, the suit jacket he'd been wearing when they'd entered the house cuddled the back of his chair, Baelish had rolled the sleeves of his devil red shirt up and his tie was gone, he glanced down to his tattoo sleeve and remembered his girl tracing the pattens.

“Shut the door.” He spoke without looking up. “I don't want Sansa hearing this.”  _Not yet anyway._

Tyrion did as Petyr asked and shut the door with a soft click before falling down into one of the black leather chairs that faced Petyr's office desk. 

“Well, I think my first question is going to be how the  _fuck_ is Sansa Stark still alive?” 

Questioning eyes watched the Cleaner as he leaned forwards just a bit and let out a quiet sigh as though he was preparing himself to tell a story. 

“Trust me, I was as surprised as you. It turns out your sister took a pet for Joffrey when she had the Starks killed.” 

Tyrion settled into his chair and rested his head in his hand. 

“So how did you find her?” Her asked in a calmer tone of voice.

“You know what my _other_ job is right?” Tyrion nodded. “Joffrey was arrested for drug possession and Cersei had me clean the house. I found a dead prostitute and a girl so scared and filthy I thought she was a brunette.” Petyr cleared his throat. “When I cleaned her off I saw that red hair and I just knew, it had to be her. He had her chained to his bed for the better part of a decade. When I took Sansa she thought that she was to belong to me, that's why she calls me _Master.”_

“Childish bastard!” 

Petyr didn't answer that with words but his stormy eyes completely agreed with the Lannister. 

“She's learning how to read and write, it keeps her occupied. I can't keep her cooped up here forever so no one sees her though.” 

“Maybe you should dye her hair.” Tyrion suggested while he shuffled in his seat. 

“Maybe I should dye it for her. Cersei destroyed her whole family and then gave Sansa as a pet, I think death would have been kinder for her.” Said Petyr. 

“Well she seems happy now, afraid of me of course, but happy.” 

“The first night she was here I gave her a shirt to put on and do you know what she did? She pushed it away and told me that she wasn't allowed to ware clothes.” There was anger in his tone. 

“Fuck.” Petyr shot him a look that said _yeah no shit_ but remained silent. “I could live with the guns and the drugs but when it started with the children Father went too far. And then Robert got suspicious.” 

“You wanted to destroy your father and Robert wanted it all to himself.” Petyr summarised. 

“You were in on it too, Littlefinger. Ned Stark was a good Detective, with us he had a great case built. Just a little more and he could have proved it all, right down to Joffrey being Jaime's son.” The blonde looked down eyes locked in thought. “How did Cersei find out?”

“I suspect it was another police officer, if Tywin doesn't own them Cersei does. But to kill everyone and burn the house to the ground?” How Cersei had gotten away with it was beyond Petyr. 

“My father still hasn't forgiven her for that has he? She drew way too much attention.” 

Tyrion stood and walked over to Petyr's mini bar and poured himself a drink, the blonde had never been one for whiskey, he preferred wine, but it was all Petyr seemed to keep around and so Tyrion accepted what he could get his hands on; there was no way in hell Baelish would tell the Lannister about his wine cellar because he knew he'd have no wine by the end of the evening. The dwarf took a long gulp before speaking again. 

“Robert dead in a hunting accident and his best friend's family murdered.” 

“We all know she wanted Robert dead, it was only a matter of time. I had no idea what she was planning because she herself didn't fully know until she'd done it.” 

“Yes, why did you help me?” Tyrion downed his glass and set it down before the half empty bottle. 

“Because believe it or not I think you're a _good_ person, in the ways it counts anyway, and that is all too rare now. Judging someone shouldn't be based on how tall they are or the size of their cock, it should be on how they play the game. Just because you're half their size doesn't mean you deserve half their respect. You're far smarter than them and I value intelligence.” 

“That sounds dangerously close to being a complement, I didn't know you cared.” 

“And you carry the name Lannister which can be useful. Now that the verbal fucking is over are you going to tell me why the fuck you came back?” Petyr grinned. “When you left a decade ago you said you'd never come back.” 

“They say home is where the heart is.” Mused the dwarf. “And guess who I saw in Dorne, Jaime. Darling big brother didn't see me of course, can't have word getting back to my sister. The truth is that I'm sick of hiding, we need to rip apart my father and sister and not just for the years of exile and what they did to Sansa. We need to because if we don't they'll rule everything and I for one don't want world run by Lannisters, even if I am one.” 

“So you want to try again.” Petyr deadpanned. 

“No, Ned Stark was a good Detective surrounded by liars and evil men. We can't do it his way, not again. No police, no court case, I'm just going to kill him and watch everything he's built crumble.” 

“We should set to work then.” Yes, destroy all the Lannisters that sounded just about perfect. 

“Maybe once we've had that dinner I was promised.” 

 

XXXX

 

The two men and Sansa sat around Petyr's long dining table, the fresh scent of chicken and herbs filled the air as it danced with rich wine; or juice in Sansa's case she didn't really like wine. Petyr and Tyrion took the seats at either head of the table and Sansa had the spot to the immediate left of her Master, if his redhead shuffled her chair any closer to him she'd be on his knee; which Petyr would actually rather enjoy if Tyrion Lannister hadn't have been there to watch it. Lady lay on the flood by Sansa's chair with her eyes locked on the lion, relaxed but ready to pounce if needed; Lady was always the protector. 

“This is delicious, Baelish.” Said Tyrion breaking the silence. “I had no idea you could cook, seems you're just full of surprises. Don't you think, Sansa?”

It was clear that the blonde lion was trying to be nice to her but Sansa was still cautious of the stranger, her pale face turned towards Petyr in search of encouragement and she found it quickly; her eyes only flashed up high enough to see his nose but that was enough and all she needed. 

“Master... Master is very talented.” She managed to voice and Petyr felt his heart swell with pride for the girl. “He's good to Sansa.” 

Petyr really did hate that she used the third person again but he understood why and wouldn't call her out on it... for now. 

“I'm sure he is.” Responded the lion with a soft smile as he took a bite of chicken. 

Dinner went on and once Petyr started a conversation the awkwardness of dinner faded away, Sansa was still nervous but Tyrion rarely asked her a question again that night which eased her worry. As the two men talked Sansa tried to just eat rather than making an input and neither man forced her. When their meal was done with Sansa helped to take the plates and empty wine bottle into the kitchen and load up the dishwasher, as she did Petyr slipped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck; he whispered into her ears the words  _my brave girl_ and Sansa knew he meant it. 

It was less than five minutes later that Tyrion started to complain, stating that he wanted to go out to The Mockingbird. No matter how many times or how many different ways Baelish said  _this isn't wise_ Tyrion would remain adamant they were going; eventually Petyr gave in saying something about if Tyrion died it was his own fault. There was no danger to Petyr himself and in his eyes the world would continue to turn without the little lion. 

Petyr drove calmly through the night towards his club, Sansa beside him in the passenger seat and Lady in the back with Tyrion. She'd rolled the window down a little to let in the cold night air that often helped to sooth her concerns and worries, fingers took comfort in the delicate fur of her beloved Copper. Petyr would have liked to leave Tyrion Lannister to his own devices in a hotel room but there were eyes and ears everywhere in King's Landing and more importantly not all of them reported to Baelish. It was safer for the little lion to stay with them. 

The rarely used back entrance found itself back in action as the outer door opened to accommodate Petyr, Sansa, Lady and of course Tyrion into the building, the hallway lead to a door that opened up directly beside Petyr's office. The three people and Lady slipped inside quickly without anyone noticing them. 

“I'll get you a private room, if anyone sees you Tywin and Cersei will know in five seconds flat.” Stated Petyr while taking Sansa's jacket for her. “I can do without that shit. Shall I send Ros down for you?”

“She's still here? Wonderful! You, my dear Baelish know how to keep your customers happy.” 

“You just better start spending some of that Dornish coin.” Petyr smiled. 

“If it's Ros then I most certainly will be doing.” 

It didn't take too long for Ros to be called down into Petyr's office, finding Tyrion Lannister there after ten years was a bit of a shock and made her feel incredibly old when stood next to Baelish's little girl; Ros had been seventeen when she started at The Mockingbird. Before Ros wandered off out the room she looked to Petyr and held out her hand, from which hung a long black wig with loose curls. 

“Before I forget I brought this down for your girl, Alayne. That red hair of hers is rather noticeable and from the way you hide her when she's here I thought it would be helpful.” 

Petyr took the jet black wig from Ros and watched as she left with Tyrion before looking back down to the fake hair in his hands. It was long and the color of midnight that he thought would suit her wonderfully, the ends curled in loose ringlets and once on she'd have a half fringe making her look utterly different. 

“Here Sweetling, put this on for me.” Sansa took the wig and just looked at it for a moment with curiosity. “I don't want anyone recognising you.” 

Anyone could recognise her and the fact that they hadn't already was just luck, only the Gods knew how many men Joffrey had loaned Sansa out to and that fact alone disgusted him. Petyr pulled Sansa's ponytail free and wrapped it up in a bun so he could straighten the black wig, he was right, she looked like a whole new person. No longer Sansa, she was Alayne. The wig made her look older by a few years, maybe twenty-one, but those eyes would never change. She hid them away from him but every now and again he'd catch a glimpse of them as she looked at something that wasn't him and Petyr would smile at their beauty. Those eyes really would never change, they would always be Sansa,  _his_ Sansa. 

“There, like a whole new person.” He tucked a few black strands behind her ear. “No one will ever recognise you, just me.” 

He was so close that she could hear his heart beating calmly in his chest and feel the ending of his breath as he exhaled, the scent of his expensive cologne teased her nostrils along with mint from his hot breath, months ago that would have terrified Sansa beyond words but now she took comfort in those little things. 

“Yes, Master.” She said, blue eyes not quite daring enough to look higher than his open collar buttons. “Safer that way.” 

“Do you want another one of those Italian Cream Sodas you like?” He asked curiously before pressing a kiss to his girl's forehead. 

Sansa nodded happily, Lady however just looked tired and stretched before collapsing onto the black leather couch with her head rested on her paws. Petyr liked seeing Sansa happy, that was how she was meant to look and it fed his ego that he was the one to make her that way. With one more kiss, this time to her supple pink lips, Petyr left his office to make Sansa her drink, throwing a _stay here_ over his shoulder as he went. 

Music played and his whores did their jobs, everything was normal for The Mockingbird and that was the way Littlefinger liked it; he could do without some strange problem popping up when he had not only the only living Stark in his office but also the dwarf at the top of Cersei Lannister's kill list upstairs. The suit clad man quickly made his way over to the large circular bar and behind it to mix Sansa her drink, he'd made the drink last time not because he thought she'd like it, Petyr had done it on autopilot. Seeing Sansa sat at the bar had stirred up so many memories of Catlyn, she'd been the one to try most of his drinks when they were young and Petyr had been learning bar work.  _I suppose I should help my baby brother_ she'd said. Baelish would voice none of this to Sansa though, it would only upset her. No matter how he'd ended up making Italian Cream Soda for her it was done now, she liked it and Petyr would continue to make it for her;  _only_ him though he didn't trust anyone else and Petyr liked the personal touch of the act. 

Azah passed him as he reached for a glass, wearing another one of her neon tight dresses, tonights choice being yellow, and greeted him with a  _hey Boss,_ Petyr only nodded in acknowledgement. Suddenly as if from nowhere Katrina appeared beside him, that girl was always late or high, occasionally both, but he'd be lying if he said she wasn't the best bartender in all of King's Landing. She wore a  _very_ low cut black top with a tartan mini skirt and fishnet stockings, her dyed black hair hung from a high ponytail and her lips were a bold red. Katrina normally dressed more or less the same just the colors changed, Petyr didn't know why and to be a hundred percent honest he didn't care. 

“I can do that for you, Boss.” She said in a northern accent. 

“No. I'm done now anyway and you girls looked swamped as is.” He answered never looking up. “Do you want me to bring Jeremy or Tyger on as a third bartender?” 

It was Azah who answered while pouring a vodka Martini. 

“Nah, we're good.” 

Petyr didn't utter another word he just registered she'd spoken and picked up the glass, his feet carried him out from behind the bar and off towards his office but he only got a few steps before a certain lion with false antlers caught his attention. Joffrrey and his so-called friends had just entered and it seemed one of those problems he could do without had indeed popped up, it only got worse when his stormy eyes looked over to his office to find Sansa leaning against the door frame talking to Olyvar, she'd grown reasonably comfortable around the blonde and despite wanting to keep the girl to himself he was please she'd found a friend; it also wasn't lost on him that she'd technically not left the office so hadn't disobeyed him. He'd expected her to feel more at ease around Ros since she was a female but Olyvar knew how to appear non-threatening while Ros always had that look in her eyes; the look that said she'd do anything to be in control. Petyr admired that about Ros but if she ever tried to take the club from him he'd burn it to the ground just to be king of the ashes. 

Joffrey seemed oblivious to Sansa as well as Petyr himself and Baelish wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, calmly he started to walk back to his office one step at a time with Sansa's drink resting in his hand. He thought he'd gotten away with it too, until that bastard Kaegan Irelan started speaking; he was obviously the more observant of the small group. 

“Hey it's the clean up crew! That drink is a big girl-y for you don't you think?” 

If Baelish had have been armed he'd have shot him. Now full aware of his presence Joffrey joined in the pathetic teasing. 

“I think it suits him, gay and girl-y go hand in hand.” _Was that meant to be an insult? _If it was Joffrey was dumber than Petyr thought. 

“Enjoy your evening boys, I need to get back to my niece before Olyvar bores her to death.” Petyr said dismissively.

The older man made to walk away but stopped dead in his tracks when Joffrey pointed a long finger out at Sansa. For a second his heart ceased to beat. Thankfully the black wig half covered her face and gave his girl a fringe. 

“ _That's_ your niece?” _Why do people keep saying that?_ “How can anything that _fine_ be in any way related to you?” He started to laugh then and Petyr knew another stupid comment was coming. “Is she a good girl for you, Baelish? Do you wish you were her _Daddy_ rather than Uncle?” 

“Joffrey enjoy the girls and the drinks. Oh and leave Alayne alone, her dog is rather quick to protect her, wouldn't want you getting bitten.” 

With that Petyr was gone, leaving the annoying brat alone with his friends as he made his way back to his office. As he approached he noticed Sansa looked alright talking to Oly but would rather not, Baelish handed Sansa her drink and quickly turned her so she had her back to Joffrey and his goons. 

“Alayne was just telling me about the new trick she taught Lady.” Olyvar informed his boss. 

“Oly I need you to make sure Joffrey and his friends stay entertained for a while. But keep an eye on him, you know what the brat is like when he thinks he owns the place.” 

“Can do. Bye Alayne.” 

With that Oly turned and walked away from Littlefinger's office. Everything was silent for a few moments save for the music filling the club but Sansa eventually broke it, her body tense. 

“Are you alright, Master?” 

“Of course Sweetling.” He kissed her forehead, something that had become a habit. “Let's go back into my office.” 

“Can we go home?” She asked quietly. 

“Not until Tyrion is finished, I don't want to risk him being seen.”

Sansa sighed, it was late and she wanted to go home away form all the people, and Joffrey. However, she'd do as she was told.

“You don't have a drink.” His girl observed as Petyr shut the office door behind them. 

“Well, how about you drink your drink and I'll coat my tongue in something else.” 

He grinned. If Tyrion was enjoying himself so would Baelish and Sansa. 


	16. A Clock That Doesn't Tick, A Pendulum That Doesn't Swing

Finally after what felt like forever Tyrion re-entered Petyr's office via the back door, which Ros shut as soon as the blonde was inside.  Tyrion found Petyr behind his large desk typing one-handed, the other used to support a sleeping Sansa who had curled up in his lap  with Copper held to her chest , Lady was stretched out on the leather couch still dozing and Tyrion was more than fine with that; Lady didn't seem to like him much. 

“Well I must say, Ros has gotten even better.”

There was a glass of half drunk ale in his hand that sloshed with each gesture, nearly spilling when he crashed down onto the couch. The thud disturbed Lady quickly growled in warning causing Tyrion to stand again with an expression that said  _ don't eat me,  _ Petyr smiled at that but didn't stop working. 

“He doesn't like me does he?”

“Considering Lady is a girl  I'd say no, she' s not too fond of you. That and she's trained to protect Sansa.” 

Tyrion chugged the last of his ale and set the glass down precariously on Petyr's coffee table. 

“I'm surprised that girl is speaking to you let alone happy enough to come here and fall asleep in you lap.”

“My girl is stronger than she looks. Brave. At first it surprised me too.” Finally Baelish looked up from his laptop and over to Tyrion. “Your nephew was here for a while.” There was a flash of concern in the blonde's eyes. “Don't look so stricken, he got drunk rather quickly, I think you could have done a merry jig in front of him and he wouldn't have recognised you. Mister Irelan carried him out about twenty minutes ago along with Ramsay.” 

“Master?”

Sansa woke slowly and spoke with a groggy voice, Petyr's attention snapped down to the redhead who had her cheek rested against his chest. 

“Yes, Sweetling?” 

“Can we go home now?” All Sansa wanted was her bed. 

“Yes, we'll go home now and you can get some real sleep. Why don't you take Lady to the car while I finish up here?”

His girl nodded in understanding before waking her beloved pet and picking Copper up only to lead Lady through the halls and over to the open main door into the night air. It was colder than when they had entered the club, the sun had gone to rest long ago leaving everything quiet despite the loud music drifting from her Master's club. The smell of cigarette smoke reached her nostrils with a delicate caress, it was different to the musky scent that came from her Master and she found herself wondering if there were different kinds. She supposed it didn't matter greatly. Lady found her way into the back seat quickly and without fuss, the door closing behind her again. Sansa looked up to the clear heavens filled with a plethora of stars each and every one of them beautiful, one night a few months previous she'd asked Petyr about them had he'd told her they all had names and that some grouped together to form constellations, her favourite of which was one named Lupus because it was shaped like a wolf. Sansa didn't know why but wolves were important to her, all those animals in that toy store and Copper is the one that caught her attention; he was the one she'd focused on.  _Why_ _are_ _wolves so important?_

Sansa was happy, she had everything she could have ever wished for and more; she was a person not a pet, she had a name all of her own rather than derogatory statements, a home, a best friend in Lady and a Master who cared deeply for her. Yes, Sansa was happy. Though if she could see the source of cigarette smoke she would have felt something entirely different, for the source was an evil man with hair black as coal and a smile of pure destruction. Though the man was handsome on the outside with dazzling blue orbs the inside was nothing but devilish horror, his name... Ramsay Bolton. Each intake of soothing smoke caused a warm orange glow that lit his pale face showing his angered snarl and the way his eyes shone with what could only be called homicidal rage. 

_That's the fucking whore!_ His mind screamed, eyes locked on the slut. _My whore! That doesn't look dead to me Joffrey. _Ramsay mental sneered while blowing out thick smoke forcefully. That girl belonged to him and only him, Joffrey had said she died, why had he taken that bastard's word for it? But that was Baelish's car and Joffrey was a moron, _Littlefinger took her for himself!_ _She's mine!_ He couldn't just take her though, he had a whore waiting for him and Littlefinger had way too many cameras guarding his precious club, and he always parked in direct line of one so no one would dare fuck with his adored Aston Martins. 

“So that bastard cleared up Joffrey's crap and took the whore as a prize, the whore I won.” Suddenly Ramsay's cerulean eyes widened with realisation. “He's the one I heard of the motherfucking roof that night.” A growl escaped his lips. 

Eventually the conniving whore thief showed his face, strutting out into the parking lot  followed by a short man in a grey hoodie via what Ramsay assumed was a back door,  no one would have noticed them if one hadn't been looking. Ramsay didn't care who the hooded man was he was far too focused on his slut and Baelish, eyes watched as the hooded man reached for the passenger door handle. 

“Hey!” Petyr shouted out, causing the dwarf to come to a sudden halt in his movements. “She gets he front seat.” He pointed at Sansa. “She always sits with me. You get the back with Lady.” 

_Did that bitch just smile? She has no right to smile! None! That slut should feel nothing but pain and fear._ Joffrey hadn't cared what she  felt but Petyr and Ramsay did, it was just they wanted her to feel very different things; Petyr wanted her to be happy and feel pleasure while Ramsay wanted nothing but pain and agony. With a huff the dwarf  did as Petyr said while Sansa took the front passenger seat and they drove away. Rage burned through Bolton's blood and he was left in the shadows, if Petyr Littlefinger Baelish thought he could take Ramsay's property from him then Petyr had another thing coming. The Bolton wouldn't tell Joffrey or Kaegan about this, and from what he'd heard Duvall Hitachiin was long dead. 

“She belongs to me, Baelish!”

 

XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX

 

_ Joffrey's place had stank of nothing but beer and marijuana for the last three hours, fluorescent lights lit the basement that had long been used as a poker room, the only thing banishing the darkness. Ramsay sat at the table with one hand holding his cards and the others gripped a half drunk beer can. To his right sat Kaegan Irelan, his Dublin green t-shirt was pulled tight over his mocha skin and bulging muscles that were more steroid induced than anything else, he kept tapping his thumb against the table too which meant that his cards were junk and he'd fold soon. The other side of him was Duvall Hitachiin who donned a silver-grey suit with a black shirt and tie, the jacket to which hung from the back of his chair, ovular emeralds set in gold took the place of cufflinks. Lastly was Joffrey 'king of everything' Baratheon \- but they all knew in the back of their minds it was really a Lannister \- who sat opposite Bolton with a smile on his face. Duvall was the eldest of the group, almost eight years older than the others, and the only one with any sophistication, probably the sanest man in the room as well. He let his hand reach down to pet his newly acquired wolfdog, Idunn. The young girl with dirty hair thought she remembered her big brother Jon having a similar animal; Ghost if she remembered correctly. Hitachiin was more like Petyr in personality; cunning, sneaky and kind up until the moment he wasn't; not that Pet knew any of that yet. Ramsay of course was utterly insane while Kaegan was plain dumb but seemed to think he was the smartest man in the room, didn't realise that brains and brawn were not the same thing. Joffrey was just over entitled and pathetic.  _

_ There was one other person in the room though no one saw or treated her like a person, she was a pet above anything else; Idunn had a station above the whore. Pet knelt down on the floor beside her Master just like every poker night the four of them had, naked and bruised just the way Joffrey liked. Her body was a mosaic of range and violence. Her worn collar was tight around her neck, burning with each breath she took, the long chain that was normally attached to her Master's bed but had been wrapped around the blonde's hand keeping the traumatized girl close and forcing her to remember her place. She was a pet. A plaything. A whore. A slave to be used as her Master saw fit.  _

_ Pet had no idea that in four short days her Master would be arrested and a stranger with grey-green eyes would change her life, return her name to her. Sansa Stark would be reborn. If anyone had said that to her while she was there on that hardwood floor by her blonde Master she wouldn't have believed it, nothing good happened to Pet. The bruised girl shook in the cold thanks to her nakedness and her eyes were clenched shut, something that had become a habit, she didn't cry though; couldn't remember how. The girl smelt, she knew that, Joffrey hadn't thrown cold water at her or submerged her face in a good two weeks and though she was pleased to keep her ability to breath she knew a beating was coming for the smell of her skin. Her hair was a muddy brown layered with thick grime that made her head itch and the long locks clump together, sometimes she'd comb her fingers through it but was always forced to stop because of large knots and the horrible texture.  _

_ Suddenly her mind was pulled back to the world around her when Joffrey placed a hard but quick kick to her stomach for no reason, he didn't seem to want anything from her and said nothing. Pet knew everything on her should hurt, that was what she existed for, she knew that all the kicks, punches and whip marks should be agony but she was numb. An aged bruise clung to her neck, it would be gone in a few days and Joffrey would have a new canvas to paint on. She felt like some kind of zombie, life didn't want her and Death wouldn't take her, she was stuck hanging between the two; an unmoving pendulum. Pet was both live and dead, not 'living' though, there was a difference between living and just breathing through the days. The blue-eyed girl knew she'd never experience 'living', she didn't deserve it. She felt herself jump when Duvall began to speak, Duvall was the kindest of any man who had touched her and that made him the most barbaric of them all; he faked niceness just so what Joffrey did after would not only hurt her body but her heart as well. _

“ _Joffrey , I'm not giving you another loan just so you can lose it to this sadistic bastard.” Duvall spoke softly clearly referring to Ramsay they all knew just how dangerous he was._

_Pet never knew 'sadistic bastard's' name, her Master had said it once or twice but every time he did she was on the floor panting for air and in utter agony; the name never stayed with her; 'something with an R?'_

“ _Yeah. Just have your grandfather increase your allowance.”_

_ Kaegan spoke like it was an easy thing to do. Unfortunately the opposite was true, Tywin Lannister had capped Joffrey's monthly allowance long ago just to keep the brat from going too far overboard. The blonde opened his mouth to yell something back but Ramsay got there first in a smooth tone.  _

“ _I want your bitch.” He grinned psychotically. _

“ _You're not good at bargaining, Snow.” Ramsay hated it when Joffrey called him 'Snow' but he'd never give him the satisfaction of showing it. His mother was some whore and Roose had ignored him until he saw how useful and dangerous Ramsay really was. “Sure, you can have her for the night if I loose-”_

“ _You will.”_

_ Kaegan stated and laughter erupted around room at Joffrey's expense, but it soon subsided as they noticed Ramsay's smile darken.  _

“ _You're right, I'm no good at bargaining but that's because I don't bargain. I take what I want. I don't just want her for the night, I 'want' her. It's all or nothing Joffrey.” _

“ _She's mine!” The blonde sneered, eyes bulging with anger and his fake antlers wobbling on his head as his body shot forwards in his chair. To Pet, Duvall, the evil man and Kaegan it looked like a child throwing a temper tantrum. “Has been since I was ten!” _

“ _Well I think that means she should learn what a real cock is like.” Evil filled blue orbs looked down to Pet with a harsh grin of nothing but malice. “You'd like that, no more of his stupid ' Joffrey's friends can't cum in you' rules just a nice. Hard. Fuck!” _

_Ramsay giggled to himself and Pet fought of her nausea desperately, even though she'd not eaten in days she couldn't risk throwing up, last time she had he'd forced her face into it until she couldn't breath and then thrown a bucket at her and a cloth; she'd smelt fowl for days after that and had actually been thankful for his drowning session just to get rid of the stench._

“ _You know what? Fuck it. I have you beat anyway.”_

“ _Doubt that.” Duvall mumbled from behind a beer bottle. “Kaegan here is a better poker player than you and he's a fucking twat.” _

“ _I'll kill you one day. You know that?” The mocha skinned man seethed, if only Duvall only knew how true that statement was. “Your dog too.”_

_ The world would never know it but Petyr Baelish and Duvall Hitachiin would have made an excellent team, both were: intelligent, cunning, smug, fans of classic literature and both even had scars down their chests but for very different reasons. However, there was one huge difference between Baelish and Hitachiin; Petyr cared deeply for Sansa while Duvall wouldn't have missed a wink of sleep has she died.  _

_Pet felt herself tremble again when her Master threw down his cards with an over-confident grin._

“ _Ha! King-high. Fuck you!”_

_ Indeed, looking down to Baratheon's cards revealed a good hand, probably the best Joffrey had played all month but the smile soon fell from his lips.  _

“ _Nah, I'll fuck her.” With that Ramsay set his own cards down on the table, Duvall grinned wickedly along with Kaegan. “Aces.” _

_ Joffrey's eyes grew angry as he looked at the small cards, his blood boiled and from his silence Pet knew he'd lost, she'd just been betted away. She'd have a new Master, a man cruel and more sadistic than her current one. Duvall standing was what finally broke the silent tension, he slipped on his suit jacket calmly and picked up Idunn the puppy.  _

“ _And on that bombshell, goodnight and fuck you all.”_

_ With that Hitachiin was gone, the only sign he'd ever been there being an empty seat and beer bottle. Duvall was smart enough to know when to leave, and the suit clad man knew that one day it would get him a bullet in the back of the head.  _

_ Ramsay paid no attention to Duvall as he left, he was focused on Pet. Joffrey's eyes still hadn't left the cards and Pet could hardly breath.  _

“ _You're my whore now.” He stated with aplomb. His head tilted up to face the blonde. “Joffrey have her cleaned up, I don't want her smelling of your cum. Shame about all those bruises, damaged goods and all that, I like to do the damaging myself.” Ramsay stood. “I'll come back for her at the end of the week, I need to make arrangements for her. Maybe I'll pick her up after we're done at The Bear. Kaegan, it's still early, do you want to come to the dog fights with me?” _

“ _Fuck yeah! Later Joffrey, enjoy the bitch while you 'ave her.” _

_ Everything fell silent for the longest time, one of those quietude that was almost deafening. Joffrey didn't move, didn't speak and for a few moments Pet wasn't sure he was breathing. Then everything exploded like an atom bomb had gone off, the blonde yanked the chain bringing Pet forwards with nothing but scrapped palms to break her fall. A booted foot slammed down on her fragile back sending her pale face into the cold wood flooring, pain surged through her body before her face turned numb like everything else on her.  _

“ _You stupid bitch!” He screamed._

_ The chain was pulled taut shutting off her oxygen for what could have been ever, her eyes watered with agony and her blood raced around her body with panic and need. She could feel blood drops leak from a re-opened wound along her neck and wondered if Death had finally come for her.  _

“ _If you weren't there offering it like a whore to every cock you saw, I wouldn't have this fucking problem!”_

_ He pulled on the chain once more bringing Pet to her knees and slapped her as hard as he could, she whimpered. Just as quickly as his anger had emerged it was gone, almost as though it had never been there to begin with. Joffrey fell into his chair again and looked off into nothingness, hand white from the grip he had on her chain.  _

“ _Don't worry, he'll be at The Bear in a couple of days, said it himself. I'll just kill him and pay Jorah Mormont to look the other way. You're staying with me whore. I own you.” _

 

XXXX

 

The next morning Petyr found himself down at the sea-shore behind his house, there was a gargantuan staircase that led down to the rich blue ocean and Sansa had been all but begging him to teach her to swim;  _ please Master teach me to swim, I can't swim show me how, please  _ it had been a been a week of non-stop asking and he'd finally given in. He wasn't a beach person but he had no doubt that Sansa would look beautiful in the sun and seafoam, beaches were too much  _ family vacation  _ for his liking. However, there he was in a pair of black trunks soaking wet teaching the redhead how to swim,  _ the things I do for this girl  _ his mind muttered as Sansa kicked out against the water. Despite his major dislike for the beach it had given him the excuse to see her in a bikini which he certainly wasn't going to complain about.  De ep dark purple  suited her and he liked her in his colors,  the top half  of the bikini  tied around her neck and back while the bottom half had little bows at either hip; it was good for her to get some sun and tan over those dark scars  it built her confidence as well rather than her covering herself up . Her body was ever so smooth to the touch and Petyr wasted no time enjoying his excuse to caress her, Baelish supported her body with strong arms letting her get used to the water and its current while showering her with helpful tips and telling her she could do it.  Lady bounced around in the water loving every second before running up onto the sand and covering herself then charging back into the ocean; that dog was going to need one hell of a bath.

It took a while but eventually she was moving about without too much of an issue leaving Petyr's arms as more of a safety net than something she needed to stay afloat. Waves crashed softly against  chalk colored rocks, the noise echoing around the mini private beach,  it  could hardly be considered a beach really. To their left stood the stone steps carved from the cliff face that led up to his house while the right housed the dock where his yacht –  named  _ Chaos  _ - was  moored, Sansa seemed happy and he hadn't noticed the spot ' s natural beauty until he saw her floating happily in  shallow  blue waters  with Lady  paddling around her,  no that wasn't quite right.  What was  beautiful wasn't the world  around him , but the way in which Sansa's eyes s aw it.

“You're doing really well, Sweetling.” He praised while climbing out of the sea and pulling on his shades as defence from the harsh sun. 

“Thank you.” She called back with a grin continuing to float along in the sea.

Sitting down on a large blue tartan towel Petyr found himself just watching the redhead as he did so very often, if Tyrion could see them  Baelish would forever have the piss taken out of him. Hands quickly rubbed at his salt and pepper hair knocking loose as much sea water as possible, birds sang in the far off distance and it seemed Sansa preferred to float along rather than actually swim. He was proud of the confidence and braver y  she had locked away inside herself, she  had started  climbing the ladder beside him and it made Petyr smile.  Eyes the color of grass after a storm flashed down to his tattooed arm taking in each design slowly and one by one, the Stargazer lily for his mother, the To Kill A Mockingbird quote, the loose feathers made to look like they were falling down his arm  snared in purple smoke and then to the blank space on the inside of his forearm. It was a reminder that there was always something else, more power, to acquire but eventually something would have to fill it, the space couldn't remain blank forever; Petyr never left anything unfinished. 

All thoughts left him when Sansa suddenly tried to turn over and sank, it was only the shallows so  it was  easy for her to stand up  and...  _ Gods what a view _ . Her red hair that h ad been tied back in a braid  had turned dark and wet, hanging over one shoulder while small pearls of ocean tumbled down her porcelain skin and Petyr raked in the sight before him. His girl was gorgeous in every way, he didn't even notice the mass of scars along her body and he was starting to realise that nor did she, Sansa felt little to no shame left in showing them to him.  Master didn't judge her he taught her. 

“I think that's enough for one day, Sweetling.” He told her with a smile watching Lady clamber out of the water and shake herself violently; they'd been there for hours. 

“ _No_! Please Master, just a little longer?”  Sansa walked up out of the glistening blue water and sat beside him on the tartan towel. “Please?” 

“Oh alright.” He relented sliding a tattooed arm around her shoulders and pulling her to his chest. “A little longer.” There was no harm in indulging her. “All the beaches in King's Landing are a lot nicer than The Fingers.” He mused aloud. 

“The Fingers?” Azure orbs sparked with curiosity but she didn't look up. Sansa enjoyed the warmth coming from her Master's body. 

“It's where I grew up until your Grandfather took me in.” He said simply. “They're a group of narrow peninsulas that stretch into the narrow sea and look like fingers, hence the name.”

“Is it nice there?” She asked.

“ The Fingers are a lovely place, if you happen to be a stone.” Sansa giggled a little at that, the sound vibrating through her body and into his chest. “That place is a windy shithole. It's treeless, always raining and everything is stony. There's nothing there, trust me you're not missing much.” 

Sansa couldn't help but wonder if that was why he liked the rain, why he found it comforting, deep down did it remind him of home? There was no use asking because her Master would never admit to being in any way sentimental; though the lily on his elbow suggested otherwise. 

“I don't remember much about Winterfell.” Sansa told him softly. “Cold, I think.” 

“It most certainly is.” Petyr always helped to bring back long forgotten memories. “It's just south of the mountains and Long Lake. Up there in the winter the police would ware these thick standard issue grey jackets trimmed with fur, made them look like wolves, that's why everyone referred to your Father as a wolf and his family became the pack. It's probably why you latched onto Copper so quickly.” 

The two sat in silence for a time, Petyr thinking about how far his baby girl had come while Sansa's mind was busy trying to remember her father's face and thick winter coat. To the older man grey coats and a cop nickname was probably unimportant and not worth much but to the redhead it was the world, her father's face was so close and yet so far, pain swelled in her chest when she realised it wouldn't come to her; Petyr sensed that pulling her closer. 

“Let's go back to the house and I'll make us dinner.”

She was a rather hungry and that was the only reason she didn't ask for more time down at the little hideaway again. Sansa helped Petyr gather up their things and folded the blanket while he slipped on his white shirt without bothering to button it up and grabbed their water bottles; though she had a great suspicion it wasn't water in his. The dark-haired man let Sansa hold his hand as they walked back up the sandy stone steps towards his,  _their,_ home with Lady following behind still shaking sand and sea water from her grey coat. 

“Thank you for that, Master. It was fun.”

She meant it but felt Petyr deflate a little, he kept walking though. There was silence for a moment and Sansa thought maybe she'd done something to upset him, finally he spoke. 

“Why do you still call me that?” He asked with genuine confusion and without looking up at her. “You don't have to and I thought it would die off after a while. You can be your own master.” He smiled to himself. “Though I do like hearing it.” 

“I like that you're my master.” She answered as though it were simple.

There was something in the way she spoke the word that was different to what he'd expected... and then it all clicked; Petyr stopped in his tracks with a little smirk on his face.

“You changed the meaning.”

It wasn't a question or a statement, more of a realisation. The word remained the same but the definition had long since been adjusted. Sansa stood there for a second with a puzzled expression on her smooth features before nodding to herself; he was right.

“With him,” The both knew he meant Joffrey. “You used that word because he owned you, because you belonged to him like an animal. With me though, you changed what that word meant; it's not a title now. You don't mean  _Master I belong to you,_ not anymore.” 

They started to walk again and she couldn't tell if Petyr proud of her or annoyed at himself for not seeing it sooner, knowing the older man it was a combination of the two. 

“It makes me feel safe.” Sansa admitted holding his hand a little tighter. “And you call me _Sweetling_.” 

Baelish laughed, a genuine laugh that even reached his eyes, not that Sansa looked anywhere near his stormy orbs. 

“You've pet named me.”

It was no longer a title but a symbol of adoration, not a word she was forced to say but one Sansa wanted to use. The redhead finally got a choice about who was her Master and she'd chosen him. She'd taken the word and twisted it into something new that Joffrey nor anyone else could ever take away from her, she'd beaten them at their own game. It may have seemed strange or not made sense to those on the outside and maybe it wasn't meant to; Master and Sweetling was them not anyone else. 

“I suppose it's only fair, and it's better than _darling_ or _bae , _Gods I hate that.” 

“You remember that you said you belonged to me as much as I belonged to you?” Petyr nodded as they continued to walk, the house coming into view. “You treat me as an equal and you keep me safe.” 

Petyr smiled and pulled her close to him.

“You're not that scared little girl I found anymore, are you?” He seemed proud of that. “I knew you were strong, Sweetling, but you've surpassed what even I thought you capable of.” 

“Thank you Master.” She smiled, water still dripping in tiny drops from her hair.

Sansa Stark was not a pet and Petyr Baelish was not her owner,  they were just two people with questionable terms of endearment thrust together by the evil acts of Lannsiters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'The Fingers are a lovely place, if you happen to be a stone' is a quote by Baelish to Sansa in chapter 68 of A Storm Of Swords


	17. Men Had Died For Less

Night dominated the land but Petyr didn't notice as he worked on in his home office typing away and preparing things for Tyrion and some woman he'd been told about Dany something, he'd not listened to her first name  _ Targaryen _ had been all Baelish needed to hear. The Baratheons had all but destroyed their multi-million dollar empire but it seemed this little blonde would rebuild with Tyrion at her side. Since the merger a decade ago the Lannister had moved on to bigger and better things, they wouldn't be in direct competition with the Targaryen for a while and Petyr already had a plan for when they got to that point. Tyrion had spent long enough in Dorne and once he was done with his father he'd be off over the narrow sea to join the girl. 

Meanwhile Sansa sat on the patio steps as she often did, her hair held loosely in a ponytail and her art pad resting on her lap as she drew. It was almost full but Master said they'd get her a new one the next day as well as anything else that took her fancy; Baelish really did spoil her.

“What are you drawing?”

The question was soft but Sansa still jumped, it had been so quiet that the words sounded like yelling. Her whole body spun round to see Tyrion Lannister looking down at her with a wine glass in one hand, he never seemed to stop drinking, Sansa averted her gaze and her body tensed. Cautiously she responded as Lady shuffled beside her. 

“Master... likes it when Sansa draws for him.” If she'd used _Sansa _ instead of _I_ out of fear or habit she didn't know. “It's the piano in Master's library, Sir.”

The pale girl held out her sketch pad so as the dwarf could see her work, surprisingly he smile, a smile that actually reached his eyes; not that Sansa made eye contact. 

“It's very good.” Tyrion took a seat beside her and Sansa was proud of herself when she didn't shuffle away. “All I could ever draw was stick men.” There was a silence as if he'd paused so as she could speak but the redhead had no idea what she was meant to say and he seemed to realise that. The blonde didn't seem angered by it, he just carried on with the purpose of his visit. “Sansa I know you're afraid of me, but I won't hurt you. I promise that. I doubt Baelish would have even let me into the house let alone help me if not for you... And the one good thing about my family is a Lannister always pays his debt, so I owe you.” Tyrion breathed out a laugh suddenly and Sansa felt confused. “And look at me, I'm a dwarf. What am I going to do? Gnaw at your ankles?” Sansa laughed, she actually laughed. “See, now we're laughing. Laughter is good it feeds the soul.” He turned to face her but never tried to meet her eyes. “So if I'm not going to chew your legs there's no reason to be scared of me. We could be friends if you like?”

Deep down Sansa knew Tyrion was no threat to her, if he was her Master wouldn't have let him in just like the blonde had said, and it would be nice to have a friend that didn't bark. 

“Okay, Sir. San-I would like that.”

“Friends call me Tyrion not sir.” His words were kind and came out smelling of wine. 

“Tyrion.”

“Good.” The blonde made to stand up but was obviously too loud because Lady who had been happy not five seconds ago was growling at him. “Hey Sansa, now that we're friends do you think you could have her stop growling and threatening to eat me? It's a little disconcerting.” 

She wasn't quite sure what disconcerting meant but from Tyrion's tone she assumed it meant worried or troubled, something like that. 

“Lady, be nice to Master's- _our_ friend.”

The animal quieted instantly and settled back down as though some kind of magic spell had been cast, Sansa petted Lady's fur gently as she reached for Copper with her other hand. 

“Thank you.”

“Master helped me to train her to protect me.” Sansa offered a little more conversationally than either of them had expected. “She learned quickly.” 

“He got her for you?” He asked absent-mindedly. Sansa nodded. 

“Copper too.” She held the handmade wolf up so as the blonde could see.

It was childish, a girl her age to take a toy wolf everywhere she went but Tyrion understood why, Sansa had never gotten the chance to be a child and that toy had become her childhood. Copper was important to her and over time he was sure that she'd stop taking it when she left the house and then one day it would never leave her bedroom, she'd always love it but Copper wouldn't have to be held in her arms every moment of every day. She'd grow up. Tyrion did a quick bit of maths and worked out that Sansa would be eighteen now growing closer to nineteen and started to wonder if Baelish favoured the childlike side to the redhead or the beautiful woman he saw everyday. 

“Sansa.” He began slowly. “Since we're friends now, would you answer something for me?” The redhead nodded as she started to shade her drawing in. “Good. Has Baelish had sex with you?” 

There was no way of asking that any more blatantly but he didn't want to tip-toe through the tulips with her. There was silence for a short time and Tyrion started to wonder if he'd somehow upset her, it almost scared him when she did speak. 

“Yes.” Her tone was caution as she uttered that one word, one little word that was so powerful.

“And did you like it?”

Tyrion didn't ask out of fear Petyr had hurt her, he knew the other man wasn't like that, in fact Tyrion wasn't certain why he'd asked, curiosity seemed to be the only explanation. Sansa bit her lip and her cheeks grew red with a blush, her hands stilled over her drawing. 

“Yes.” This time her words were but a whisper.

Tyrion just grinned. 

 

XXXX

 

The next day came and Sansa was excited to go and get a new art book, a simple thing but it excited Sansa nevertheless, she'd never been to get her own and Petyr wanted her to pay for it herself; to be brave. Tyrion was still passed out in his room and Lady had been left with him, Petyr could just imagine the look on the little lions face when he woke to find Lady not three feet from his sleeping face. Priceless. The sun was shining and a cool breeze drifted through the air so Petyr's DB5 had the windows rolled all the way down and Sansa revelled in the sound of birds and waves, as they got closer to the city those sounds faded into new ones of hustle and bustle of workers. Petyr held a cigarette between two fingers on the hand leaned comfortably on the window frame while the other gripped the steering wheel. Music drifted out the car as they drove to which Petyr drummed his fingers along with the beat, Sansa had long since discovered that her Master did this unconsciously and somewhat unknowingly.

 

 _I wanna be a white trash millionaire_  
Ain't got much and I don't care  
Count your cash and kiss my ass  
This whole damn world gonna know I been here  
I got two zig-zags and you know I’ll share  
I’m everyone from nowhere  
White trash  
White trash  
White trash millionaire  
  
Some got a castle, a Mercedes Benz  
Big time appointments  
And all their fake friends  
So tell me is that as good as it gets  
On the couch, on the front porch  
We’re all smoking left-handed cigarettes

 

Though he wore his usual suit, today's was Gucci in rich navy and a matching waistcoat with a tie of the same color and crisp white shirt, Petyr didn't usually ware a tie but damn did he know how to ware a suit. Sansa had accidentally dressed to match him in color, her knee length dress was almost the same shade of blue and had lace three-quarter sleeves that both showed off her arms while hiding her scars. Her hair hung in a loose red braid that draped over her shoulder and Petyr had spent the better part of the morning trying not to pin her to his bed. Gods he wanted to hold her down. 

The day was peaceful until the moment his cellphone started to ring and vibrate in his pocket, with a sigh Petyr threw his cigarette butt out the open window and pulled the car over and tugged his phone out, pressing it to his ear. Sansa remained quiet and attempted to avoid listening to his conversation, that of course didn't work since they were right beside them. 

“Yes, Gwendolyn?” He'd given the blonde a day off which meant that Tywin Lannister's assistant had called her. 

“ _I'm so sorry to bother you sir but Mister Lannister has insisted upon a meeting this morning.” _She told him through the phone line. _“It's in an half an hour.” _

“Alright, I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

He hung up after that quickly and pulled the car over, Sansa knew what was coming. 

“I'm sorry, Sweetling.” He looked at her porcelain face, it still annoyed him that he could never look into those beautiful blue eyes of hers. “I have to go in for a meeting, there's a company I've been keeping track of. As CFO I deal with the money. We'll get your things afterwards, okay?” 

“Yes, Master.”

Sansa was a little disappointed but she knew  what her Master said was a promise, and the redhead trusted him whole heartedly. It was then that Petyr remembered the brown wig Ros had given them, on the drive  home he'd chucked it in the glove box where it had been forgotten until that very moment. There on the side of the road Petyr took the wig out and handed it to his girl, Sansa wasted no time placing it on her head and neatly hiding away the small red baby hairs. 

“Keep this on darling, I doubt that anyone would recognise you with this on but we can never be too careful. And I haven't got time to take you home.”

Sansa was filled with trepidation and butterfly's scurried around her stomach as her Master drove into the financial district of King's Landing, the buildings grew taller like silver giants looming over her with frowns on their faces; she didn't belong there. It was as though she were entering some sort of medieval castle and it caused her breath to hitch. There was a parking structure under one of the evil looking buildings that she soon discovered belonged to Lion and Stag Enterprises. Sansa did everything in her power to calm her breathing. The car came to a halt and the engine silenced before Petyr slipped out and rounded his beloved Aston to open the door for his girl, she watched as he pulled something from his breast pocket. Glancing around quickly Sansa saw the space had been reserved for him with a large black plaque with gold lettering that read; 

**_ Petyr Baelish _ **

**_ Chief Financial Officer _ **

“Here.” Suddenly it became clear that he held his sunglasses. He slipped them over her ears and rested them on her nose. “They actually suit you.”

Petyr pressed a kiss to her supple lips, gentle and chased before taking her hand in his and leading her towards the elevator. 

“Don't worry, no one will recognise you as Sansa.” He gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement that she greatly appreciated and needed. The elevator climbed quickly. “Only respond to the name  _ Alyane _ alright? If anyone asks who you are that's what you tell them, you are Alayne Stone my niece.” 

“Yes Master.” She could do this, she could go into the lions den and be brave. “Or would you like me to call you _Uncle_ again?”

The silver doors slid open revealing the fifty-first floor that was littered with people going this way and that, Petyr dropped her hand letting it fall to her side. 

“Uncle. Come on, the last one of these I was sprung with didn't last long. You can do this, Sweetling.” Petyr knew Sansa needed the encouragement. “You're brave.” 

The redhead followed closely behind her _Uncle_ as he twisted and turned around the floor until a large black door came into view and Sansa knew it was his office, just outside lay a desk of the same color as the door behind which sat a blonde, plain but not unattractively so. She wore a grey business dress made of a thick fabric with a pleated skirt; _this must be the Gwendolyn he spoke of. _

“Hello Mister Baelish.” She greeted with a smile upon looking up from her documents. Petyr only nodded a greeting in return. “Whose your friend?” 

Sansa was surprised to find she felt no fear around the blonde woman, she was at ease. 

“This is Alayne my niece, she'll be staying with me for a while.” 

“Oh! Well hello Alayne. It's nice to meet you.” Gwendolyn actually seemed to be truly friendly and Sansa found it refreshing. 

“Hello.” The redhead managed - not that anyone could see her red hair under the wig - her responce was quiet but thankfully not forced. 

Not a moment later Gwendolyn was talking again but this time it was all directed at her Master. Sansa remained quietly as Petyr listened and tapped away on his cellphone. 

“Sir, Mister Pycelle would like to speak to you before the meeting but the CEO has moved the meeting up... it's now in five minutes.” She said the last bit with a _I'm sorry_ tone.

Petyr sighed, it was going to be one of those days. 

“Fine.” He put his phone back into his pocket. “Pycelle can go and die in a ditch, I don't care what he wants to complain about and to be honest I don't have the time. Oh, and Alyane will wait in my office while I'm with Tywin.”

“Yes, Mister Baelish. Of course.” 

Petyr turned to his girl with a soft smile that was only for her and pushed open his office door. 

“I'll be back as soon as I can, Sweetling.” 

After a kiss to her forehead Petyr was gone leaving Sansa alone in his office. He'd hidden her away and kept her safe.  His office was nothing like the one in his home office or The Mockingbird, this one was more modern and minimalistic. On the slate blue wall that held the office door hung two white frames either side of it but they didn't hold paintings or photographs, no, instead Sansa found quotes. This first read;  _People generally see what they look for and hear what they listen for._ It was an extract from _To Kill A Mockingbird_ by _Harper Lee_ and Sansa thought truer words had never been spoken. Petyr wasn't one of those  _general_ people he saw and heard everything else. The second frame on the left of the door was a Shakespeare quote; _If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?_ Both the framed quotes screamed _ Petyr Baelish.  _

The two walls opposite her and to her right were floor to ceiling windows, seemed he had the corner office, from which the whole financial district of King's Landing could be seen in the far off distance she found the ocean and Sansa smiled a little. There was a back leather couch pressed up against the window that faced a wall mounted television and Sansa wondered if he preferred the view to the channels. This office was larger than his others but didn't seem lived in like the ones at home and at The Mockingbird. 

To the left of the door with its back to the slate blue wall coated a few glass shelves topped with books, and a dark wooden box like curio that she tried not to be curious about, stood a large black desk. The desk had been made of a sleek black that had the appearance of marble with a high-backed leather chair as its partner, the chair looked comfortable and so Sansa took a seat rather than going over to the couch. 

Sansa tried to breathe, her Master had faith in her and that was all she needed. Sansa was safe, in the lion's den, but safe. Petyr wouldn't let anything happen to his girl. The redhead suddenly wished that Lady was there. 

“Alayne, would you like something to drink?” Sansa nearly screamed when she noticed Gwendolyn had popped her head into Baelish's office. “Tea? Coffee? Water?” 

Her eyes grew wide and locked down on the dark wood desk while her hands trembled, from somewhere she found her voice.

“... No, thank you.” That seemed to satisfy Gwendolyn who left shutting the door behind her.

Sansa's eyes clamped shut as she tried in desperation to calm herself, when they opened again and she took in deep breaths the redhead noticed another frame, this time a blue one, in pride of place on his desk. It was the drawing she'd given him what felt like an eternity ago, she'd assumed he'd thrown it away or left it in a draw but there it was, framed and beautiful on his desk. All that fear that had just surged threw her body drained away to be replaced by a smile and strength; her Master cared. Petyr had said he would keep it and he had. Life with her Master had routine and happiness to it but life without him was unbearable.

The redhead found herself thinking about her Master, the kindness and devotion he showed her and then she thought about herself and the feeling she felt for him that couldn't be described. It squeezed her heart and made her smile every time she saw him, it made her brave and reminded her that she was Sansa Stark. It caused her to feel so much and yet she didn't know what the word for it was. 

Sansa lost track of time alternating between looking out to the beautiful view and grinning at the framed drawing, maybe time didn't matter. _I'll be back as soon as I can, Sweetling. _That was what he'd said and he'd come back for her, Sansa trusted that. It didn't mean that the redhead didn't eventually grow bored, when that happened she picked up his gold pen and legal pad from the clean desk and started to write; there was a time when she wouldn't have dared do that but she'd learnt that her Master wouldn't mind. Her handwriting had greatly improved, she'd had trouble with C and K often putting the wrong one into a word and for about two months _cat_ had been spelt _kat,_ that all seemed to be fading away though, silent letters proved a problem but for someone who hadn't been able to read or write their own name less than a year ago she was doing very well, remarkably well. Eventually that bored her as well and she flipped to a clean page to draw; that never bored her. The pen danced over the page softly at first making smooth simple lines that built up over time and grew darker with shading, it was her Master she drew, hair in perfect place and moustache neat with his trademark smug smile on his face.

Petyr had said the last meeting Tywin called hadn't lasted long but this one seemed to go one forever, she'd been in his office a good hour and longed for him back but she would remain patient. The drawing was almost finished, just a little more shading needed around his shoulders and neck was all it needed when the door burst open. Sansa beamed, the meeting was over and her Master was back. There was just one problem, that wasn't her Master.

“Baelish, your assistant had fucked off somewhere and I want you to-” Joffrey cut himself off upon looking up from his phone to see the sunglasses wearing brunette in Baelish's place. “Who are you?” 

Sansa couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't.... just couldn't. Her lungs pulled in desperate gulps of air and her eyes clenched shut behind the sunglasses, hands trembled to the point of dropping the gold pen and her whole body grew tense as tears built in her eyes. Her whole body was frozen with fear except for the bits that shook. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. Sansa's old Master stood not four feet away at the door with an expectant look on his face, she was trapped. He'd figure her out! He'd take her back! He'd hurt her! Make her suffer and she'd never see her Master again, Sansa would never figure out what that feeling she had for him was. 

“Are you going to answer me?” The blonde asked demandingly taking a step forwards and Sansa nearly threw up. 

“This is Alayne Stone.” That was Petry, that was her Master! He was there and she was safe. Sansa's head shot up to make sure he was real. “Alayne is my niece.” 

Petyr entered the room and positioned himself between his baby girl and the blonde bastard acting as a shield for her. Just having him out of direct sight brought her comfort and aided in calming her. Petyr was the only thing that made her feel safe and Lady wasn't there to protect her. 

“What do you want, Joffrey?”

“My Grandfather wants me to do a video call with my Uncle Jaime in Dorne this evening. I don't want to so you're going to do it for me.” 

“If Tywin asked you to do it then there is a reason for that.” Petyr told the moron of a boy. 

“Yes, he thinks I'm stupid enough to just drop everything and do as he tells me.”

 _No you're pretty damn stupid,_ said Petyr's mind smugly and he had to fight not to burst out laughing. He couldn't be bothered to fight with Joffrey over a video call to Ja im e Lannister and just wanted the blonde away from his gir, and anyway if Joffrey did do it then he'd only fuck the call up and Petyr would be forced to do it anyway. 

“Fine, I'll deal with Jaime but you can answer to Tywin. Now get out of my office.” 

“Stop acting like you own the place, Baelish. Bye Alayne.” 

With the slamming of the office door Joffrey was gone and Sansa remembered how to breathe.  _Just wait you little brat, I'll own the place soon enough._ Petyr attention snapped back from his multi-phased plot to his darling girl who was almost in tears.

“Sansa it's okay, you're safe. I'm here, he's gone.”

Petyr pulled her into his arms so he could sit in his chair and hold her in his lap. He gripped her tight as she clung to him for dear life, the sunglasses came off and he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. Her whole body vibrated with fear as she fisted his shirt in her little hands. 

“You're so brave, Little One. So brave. I'm proud of you, Sweetling.” 

“Can... can Master... take Sansa home?” 

He hated that she referred to herself as _Sansa_ again, it was as though all those months of work had never happened. He didn't correct her though, knew it would do no good.

“Of course, Sweetling. Do you still want to go and get your art things?” 

“No, Master.”

He knew that would be her answer but had asked anyway. Petyr pressed a kiss to her temple before responding.

“Okay, let's go home.”

The drive was eerily silent, not even his usual music filled the car and Petyr found his hand reaching out to comfort her every few minutes, Sansa seemed grateful for that though she didn't speak. The wig was off leaving her beautiful red hair flowing down in a braid that he longed to touch, it would do no good though. It was a symbol of her strength that she calmed her breaths and banished her tears as quickly as she did. His sweet girl had been through so much  and just when she was beginning to truly move on it all came crashing back down. Thoughts raced through Petyr's mind as he drove to the point that he couldn't tell what most of them were, all that he knew was that Joffrey Baratheon's death had just moved up in his schedule. No one made his girl cry! 

When they arrived home Sansa went in first leaving Petyr to close the door behind them, he found Tyrion stood in the living room with a cup of coffee watching Sansa drop to her knees and hug Lady. 

“Where the fuck have you two been?”

“Not now, Tyrion.” Petyr growled, normally he could hide his emotions but anger raged through his blood.

“Okay.” Tyrion dragged the word out and raised his hands in surrender. “Let's not all attack the little guy.” He took another look at the young redhead before looking back at Petyr. “What happened?”

Baelish sighed. 

“Tywin called a meeting and I didn't have time to bring her home. You're annoying little nephew walked in just before I came back.”

“Did he recognise her?” Tyrion sounded just as concerned as Petyr himself. “Beacuse if he does and Joffrey tells Cersei-” Petyr cut him off. 

“No, he didn't recognise her. But I've had enough of her living in fear of him somehow getting her back.”

“Well what are you going to do then?”

“Kill him.” Petyr responded calmly, eyes never leaving his baby girl. “I've been patient enough, waiting for the right moment when there couldn't possible be any suspicion placed on me, I think that time has come.” Baelish's stormy eyes looked down at Tyrion. “And fuck it, even if they do suspect me they'll never be able to prove it. He made Sansa cry.”  _Men had died for less._

“You really care about her don't you.” It wasn't a question.

“She's mine!”

Tyrion knew those words weren't what he meant, his anger cause Petyr to lay claim to Sansa but Tyrion knew what the real response was...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are White Trash Millionaire by Black Stone Cherry


	18. The Flicker Of Peace Before Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mentions of torture, rape and suicide

Hours had passed by since the incident in Petyr's slate blue office but it took all of five minutes for him to break into Kaegan Irelan's house,  headphones filling his ears with much needed music, he worked better when he could just shut out the world around him for a few moments. 

 

 _Hello darkness, my old friend_  
I've come to talk with you again  
Because a vision softly creeping  
Left its seeds while I was sleeping  
And the vision that was planted in my brain  
Still remains within the sound of silence

 

Petyr send a text from  Kaegan's hideous neon green cased  phone to Joffrey's while Kaegan was in the shower.  _ Such terrible locks anyone could just stroll right in.  _ He deleted the whole conversation once he was done knowing that Kaegan wouldn't be able to prove he hadn't sent it; not only had it come from his phone but at his home and while he was there as well. He already knew the security cameras were down at Joffrey's place, had been for about a week; the idiot had overloaded the circuit breaker.  

 

 _In restless dreams I walked alone_  
Narrow streets of cobblestone  
'Neath the halo of a street lamp  
I turned my collar to the cold and damp  
  
When my eyes were stabbed  
By the flash of a neon light  
That split the night  
And touched the sound of silence

 

The Cleaner couldn't help but look around, and instantly wanted to set the place ablaze, the Irelan family was a valued and powerful family of lawyers with their own company in Braavos. Kaegan's father was the current head of the family and could get just about anyone off for murder. Dittmann Irelan was his name, a dangerous man who spoke softly and stood tall, everyone knew the threat he posed when angered but Baelish knew he could be easily navigated despite being the top lawyer in pretty much all of Westeros. Dittmann had four sons; Reyek the eldest and most competent in Petyr's opinion, Matrim who did everything he could to please his father and Pellin who had just married, Kaegan was the youngest and the rebel son. Dittman also had a daughter named Pomeline who he knew very little about and that not only went for Baelish but her father too. The wife was Odette Irelan, née Corrigan, who came from one of the most powerful journalism families to have ever lived. All of this seemed to prove too stressful as well as boring to young Kaegan who'd been cut off almost a year ago. Seemed things had gone down hill for young Kaegan ever since then, if not for his skill at poker Petyr suspected the mocha skinned man would have found himself in a ditch long ago. 

Petyr had been set in motion after that text was sent, the pieces falling into place to complete the jigsaw, he called his body double. Teiichi had been instructed to meet him at the club and with that everything was prepared except for one thing, Sansa. 

“Please, Sweetling. I know you don't want to leave the house right now but we have something we need to do.” He all but pleaded with his girl who hid under her bed with Copper and Lady. “I thought we'd stopped hiding under the bed.”  He sighed and held his hand out for her to take. “Come on, Sansa.” 

Reluctantly she obeyed and Petyr couldn't help but think of that first night and how he'd coaxed her out then. He held his girl in his arms for a short while, stroking her soft fire-red hair and occasionally kissing her temple. Sansa knew she was safe there with him, with her Master.  However, seeing Joffrey, hearing his black-hearted and fiendish voice had brought back all the horrific and traumatising memories she'd worked so hard to lock away. 

“ Sweetling.” He broached slowly so as not to upset her more. “When I asked you if you wanted Joffrey to hurt, if you wanted Cersei to know the pain your mother felt, you said yes. Do you still want that?”

Silence, utter and complete silence. Sound of any kind ceased to exist as the two of them were thrust into a vacuum where only they existed. He could feel her heart beating in her chest softly as he watched his baby girl's blue eyes look about the floor as though she would find the answer carved into the wood. Petyr didn't ask again, didn't push for an answer, she'd give one when she was ready. Lady suddenly sat up and scratched behind her ear which seemed to snap Sansa back to the world around her, quiet as a mouse she finally answered him. 

“Yes.” It was so faint that Baelish had to strain to hear it. 

S he did, Sansa wanted them to suffer as she had, to be punished. Petyr knew she felt conflicted  over that question, Sansa was a good person with a soft nature but there was also a powerful violence to her; he pressed a kiss to her temple gently. He, however, was devoid of any moral compass.

“Then let's kill him.”

“Okay, Master.”  

There was a danger in her voice that Littlefinger had never heard before and he had to force his interest not to grow. 

“That's my girl.” He kissed her again, this time on the lips, and picked her up bridal style only to set her down on the soft yellow bedsheets. “I'm going to need you to ware a certain outfit, Sweetling. I want to prove a point.” 

Twenty minutes later Sansa found herself dressed in an outfit she didn't know she had, apparently he  _ picked it up on the way home  _ and Sansa tried not to question that too much. It consisted of a black pair of black sailor shorts over fishnet tights and a white shirt that buttoned up just enough to show off her cleavage and coal bra. Heeled military boots found themselves laced onto her feet while her brown wig hung in delicate loose curls around her face. It was safe to say that Sansa didn't feel too comfortable, Master was taking her to see the boy who tortured her for ten years and there she was dressed up seductively for the eyes of said man. Her Master said he wanted to prove a point though so she wouldn't complain; from the way her Master grinned Sansa knew she looked good. 

“Oh baby girl, you're stunning.”

Throughout the whole drive Sansa didn't say a word, not one, she was far to busy keeping herself calm and trying to convince herself that she was Sansa Stark and not Pet. Petyr Baelish was her Master and that was the way it would stay. Her hand reached into the back seat of Petyr's Aston Martin DBS every now and again to pet Lady's head in search of comfort and Petyr himself spent most of the drive with a hand rested on her thigh providing warmth and strength. Though she wasn't paying much attention she did notice the Andy Biersack lyrics that filled the car and knew he was only playing that song because it was her favourite, it had played faintly in a café he'd taken her to once and she'd taken a quick liking to it. 

 

 _You're never gonna get it_  
I'm a hazard to myself  
I'll break it to you easy  
This is hell, this is hell  
You're looking and whispering  
You think I'm someone else  
This is hell, yes.  
Literal hell.  
  
We don't have to talk  
We don't have to dance  
We don't have to smile  
We don't have to make friends  
It's so nice to meet you,  
Let's never meet again  
We don't have to talk  
We don't have to dance  
We don't have to dance

 

It made her smile to know he was trying to keep her calm and remind her she was strong. The revealing fishnets somehow managed to keep her legs warm but looking closely tiny scars were visible beneath them, she prayed to the Gods that Joffrey didn't see them. There was a rather long scar that went up her right calf, a thin red line that had healed far better than she'd expected two or three years previous, Joffrey had done it one night when he was bored and wanted to test a new hunting knife he'd gotten; Sansa shivered at the memory. 

Petyr parked where no one would see the car, the same place it had been when he first took Sansa, and silenced the engine. Like a gentleman he helped her out of the car noting that in her heels she was taller than him - which he didn't like much, Petyr prefered it when she walked around the house in bare feet and he only had to lean in to kiss her - slowly they walked towards the building that had once been her cell. Her heart drummed dauntingly around her chest and her breath came quickly, Petyr gripped her shaking hand while the other held Lady's leash. When they got to the doorstep he placed his palms on her shoulders and looked at her downcast eyes. 

“Do you remember what I told you?” He asked in a deep voice.

“Act like it's just you.” She told him. “You're my Master, not him.”

“That's right. You're mine.” His, yes she was his. “And you have Lady.” He added as an after thought, moss colored eyes glanced down to the Wolfdog. He raised his hands to cup his girl's cheeks. “You've been running all your life. Terrible things happened to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room mourning their fates. You've been a bystander to tragedy since the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander. Do you hear me? Stop running. There's no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them.” 

There was a moment where neither of them moved, almost like Petyr needed a second to prepare too, then he lifted a fist and knocked on the door. 

 

XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX

 

_ Many memories of the day she had been kidnapped were gone, faded off into nothingness, and what she did remember was vague at best. The sound of her screams echoing along hallways as she was hauled up uneven stairs, or at least they felt uneven, falling and tripping over her own feet for the few steps that she managed to climb herself, the whole time a hand gripped her long red hair. Dark, heavy leather had been forced around her neck, binding her to the prison, locking with an eerie 'click', a sound that would remain in her brain until the end of time. Her pale skin had burnt and bruised, bled and stung, with it's rough embrace. Sansa's clothes had been torn from her by the blonde woman as a boy with the same hair and only a little older than Sansa herself watched on without a word, only the occasional mocking giggle that thundered through her ears.  _

_ Her 'owner' never used her name, the blonde woman she'd assumed was his mother told him but the boy had just said 'I don't like it' and the mother seemingly uncaring had left him with his new 'toy'. The name Sansa Stark wasn't spoken from that moment on, was denied to her, she was not Sansa just pet, slave or whore. There were days years later when her name was long lost to her just as the ones of her brothers, sister and parents were; while on other days the name would circle around her brain in an unending cycle.  _

_ Azure eyes held no joy after her confinement, only fear and pain, eventually it got to the point where she couldn't remember what other emotions felt like. In the beginning, the early years, she'd wished and prayed to the old gods and the new that someone would rescue her, a knight coming for the fair maiden, or to be woken by her Mother and taken away from the torturous nightmare that had become her life. No, no one ever came to save her. No one cared about an animal under a lions bed. The collar had hurt at first and then grown into agony but eventually, after enough years, the pain faded... or she became numb to it, deep down she knew which was more likely. With the pain the rest of her fragile body endured, Pet decided that her pale neck no longer told her of its constant agony, like her mind it had given up long ago.  _

_ She did not have life, no, just existence. How could she ever 'live' when Pet couldn't even leave her bed prison. Her warden, her owner just beyond. In the first few months Joffrey would hide away and wait for the redhead to show a single glint of hope, only to pounce and destroy it like a cat with a mouse. At the age of ten her Master knew nothing of the sexual violence he could cause her and so beatings where the most common cause for her tears; not that the ability to cry lasted long. As he grew older blades became a favourite of his and then finally he discovered sex and porn, that was when the last little bit of Sansa Stark seemingly faded away leaving only a shell.  _

_ One of his favoured tortures to inflict upon her was called 'bath time', she would be freed of the collar for an even more painful experience. Pet's neglected body would be heaved along the floor away from her cell by a firm grip on her filthy hair and into the bathroom; each time the bath had been filled almost to overflowing by cold icy water. Joffrey would giggle like it was some sadistic game and then force her head under, plunging Pet into oblivion, water would cascade around her soft but dirty cheeks causing her hair to float as though it were sailing on a breeze; that was the only beauty Pet ever saw. There was always a brief pause, a single frozen moment in which she felt free, a single second where everything stopped; her Master's yelling, the pain, the self-loathing, everything would stop for that split second and she'd feel nothing but utter tranquillity... it never lasted though. Soon enough that millisecond was over and they were on to the next one, her lungs would grow tight as air ran dry, red hair tangled around her face like a shroud and her eyes would clench shut as the blackness encroached. Pet would hear her heart thumping in terror, like a rabbit caught in a snare, and her mind would cease to function.  _

_ Only when the darkness had taken over her vision and her panic started to die would her head be pulled back from the icy depths, oxygen flooding into her lungs just long enough to push out the black before her head was submerged again and it all started over. This would go on until Joffrey found himself bored, only then would Pet be able to draw breaths freely.  _

_ Sometimes her Master wouldn't touch her, instead he'd flop down onto his bed almost crushing her underneath, bedsprings pinching her with their metal bites, he'd be drenched in the smell of liquor and drugs as well as every type of junk food in existence. Those times he would leave her be, safe for one night and she would actually feel as though she owed him thanks for that. 'Thank you Master for not hurting Pet.' These were her favourite nights but they were very few and far between, most nights did not bestow such a gift. Large hands would grip her feet, nails pressing into her skin so deep she bled, and drag her from her safe place then thrown onto his bed. Pinned down by his full weight, naked and scared, with his roaming hands marking her little form, long ago she had cried but soon those tears dried up and she learnt to remain silent. In a way it made it less painful for Pet.  _

_ When Joffrey was done with his slave she'd find herself cast off back to the floor. Abandoned for another evening. Treated like garbage and discarded back to her cell. The teenager's mind may have found a method of escape but her body was still forced to live in a miserable and wrenched state. Burnt with cigarettes, cut with whatever new blade he'd found, punched, kicked, raped, drown, it got to the point where she couldn't even remember how many ways he had of hurting her. She'd learnt quickly enough he wanted her to scream and call for help, it amused him.  _

_ As she grew her mind had tried to spit itself and separate itself from her battered body, hiding away somewhere happier; the only escape she had. Father was dead, Mother was dead, Robb was dead, Jon, her sister and two brothers whose names were lost to her, everyone who had ever cared was dead and gone.  _ _ Joffrey vanished for most of the day always saying something like 'off to work' or 'it will be mine soon enough', Pet liked it then because she was alone, no Master, no being loaned out, just her and a few blissful hours of solitude. From her floor based prison the girl could just see out a window by her Master's bed and out into the far off distance, pastel blues and soft fluffy clouds that were carried by slow and gentle winds. She longed to be one of those clouds high up in the heavens where she could finally drift away from her Master but she felt guilty for that, Pet had no right to wants or desires. She had nothing but her chains and fears, forbidden to have more.  _

_Those thoughts of rescue that had once kept her going were forgotten as nothing more than the dreams of an eight year old girl. She only had two wishes by the age of twelve; death and to remember her family. What did her father look like? What were the names of her younger brothers and sister? Why had they been murdered? After she didn't know how many years the girl stopped wishing, it was pointless._

_ When Death didn't come for her she decided to go to him,  _ _ while Joffrey was gone she'd wrapped her chain as tightly as she could around the  _ _ legs of his bed and pulled with all her might. The leather had bitten into her flesh and her azure eyes had grown hazy while the darkness revealed its intentions for her, she'd felt as though she were being freed. Like all good things in her life it didn't come. Joffrey had forced air into her lungs, pulling her back like being hauled over broken glass. Cersei Lannister had stolen her family, Joffrey had stolen her childhood, her virtue, her happiness, and when there was nothing left for him to take... _

_ ...he stole her death as well.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first set of lyrics are Sound of Silence, the Disturbed version not Simon and Garfunkel. The second lyrics are We Don't Have To Dance by Andy Biersack. 
> 
> When I was writing the conversation outside Joffrey's house between Sansa and Petyr I just couldn't help but add in his speech from season 5 ep 3, it fitted so wonderfully.


	19. You Will Let Me Know When Those Lambs Stop Screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is obviously what Hannibal says to Clarice in Silence Of The Lambs, I thought it fitting for the situation. 
> 
> Sorry this chapter isn't as long as my others and it's a lot of speech.

There was a moment where neither of them moved, almost like Petyr needed a second to prepare too, then he lifted a fist and knocked on the door. 

Sansa searched for every calming memory she had and clung onto it as they waited for her old Master to answer the door, Petyr said she was brave, he believed in her and Sansa was inclined to believe him but that didn't stop her shaking. Finally the door flew open and Sansa was proud that she didn't scream and head for the car.

“Alright Kaegan- what the hell are you doing here, Baelish?” Joffrey demanded when he realised Petyr wasn't his friend. Then he noticed brunette Sansa. “With your lovely niece.” Lady growled. “Oh, and a pet.” 

Sansa cringed at that word, she wasn't  _Pet_ any longer. On a brighter note he didn't seem to recognise her and that gave Sansa a huge, and much needed, boost to her confidence. The girl petted Lady's head to quieten her down but she could feel the tension in her best friend, it mirrored her own; in fact Petyr was the only one who appeared at ease. 

“Just something Tywin is planning, thought you'd want a heads up in a place he'd never expect me to be.” He grinned at the blonde. “Can we come in?” 

Petyr didn't wait for a response he just stepped inside keeping himself between Sansa and the false Baratheon as she stepped over the threshold. Joffrey slammed the door shut behind the pair with a impatient look on his face, the Cleaner ignored this and sat himself down at the dining table between an L shaped couch and Joffrey's open plan kitchen that looked as though it wasn't used very often. Sansa stood a few inches to his side with Lady on her leash who still looked as though she would like to rip the blonde's throat out, neither Petyr nor his girl blamed her.

“What's the old bastard doing now?” Joffrey asked as he slumped down into the seat across from the CFO. 

Again Petyr ignored everything Joffrey was saying and took Lady's cerulean leash from Sansa gently, the blonde's eyes flashed up to Sansa, or Alayne as he knew her, taking in every inch of her stunning outfit. She was so beautiful, long legs that vanished into black sailor shorts and an eye catching cleavage; the Lannister licked his lips. There was something familiar about her but she was Baelish's niece so Joffrey just assumed there was a family resemblance he couldn't quite place, Baelish blood or not Alayne was stunning. In fact once the CFO was done with whatever the hell he had to say Joffrey intended to sweep the girl off her feet. His mind came back when Petyr started to speak to his niece. 

“Sweetling, do you think you could get us a drink?” He gestured to the bar behind the Lannister. 

Sansa didn't speak, knew that her voice would give her away in seconds and at that moment she thought it would come out a scream rather than words, instead she nodded and summoned all her courage to hold her head high as heels ckick-clacked on the wood floor and she passed her old Master. _Has he really not noticed me?_ With black hair held in loose curls, skin void of bruises and a skinny but fed body she was a very different person; _person_ being the operative word. Shaking hands reached out for the whiskey bottle and she actually smiled looking at the label for she knew what her Master would say; _you drink this blended shit?_ Carefully Sansa poured two glasses desperately trying not to spill a single drop, Petyr making conversation behind her but she could feel Joffrey's eyes on her backside. _He'll see the scars,_ her mind said unhelpfully, _the fishnets won't hide the marks_. Sansa did everything in her power not to panic. 

“You're niece isn't very chatty is she?” Joffrey seemed annoyed, but that was how he always sounded so who could tell. Petyr didn't answer. 

Cautiously she turned and set the glasses down before each of the men, then retreated to her spot behind Petyr. 

“You look familiar, have we met?” The blonde asked and all Sansa could do was shake her head, no words came out. 

“Doubt it.” Petyr answered for her and for that she was thankful. “She's from the north.” The older man then raised his glass as a silent _cheers_ and took a sip. “Ehh, you drink this blended shit?” 

If she hadn't have been so frightened Sansa would have laughed. Joffrey returned the gesture and both men took a long sip of whiskey, more of a gulp in the blonde's case. 

“Joffrey,” Petyr began. “I must confess I lied. Tywin isn't planning anything, well, nothing that affects you anyway. I just wanted us to have a drink together.”

“A drink?” Joffrey deadpanned. “Seriously? Well, looks like that's over so get out. Kaegan will be here soon.”

“No he won't.” Petyr's face was utterly unreadable and if Sansa didn't know better she would have said Joffrey looked nervous. “I sent that message. Your dear disowned friend has no idea you to were meant to meet tonight.” 

Tension ran through Joffrey's blood, he'd never admit it but he was afraid of Littlefinger, the man could turn on you in less than a heartbeat and no one would know until they were dead. In a way he was more dangerous than Tywin or Cersei, hell even Ramsay and that bastard was fucking crazy. Joffrey opened his mouth to spew out a stupid and insulting comment that he though would make him look brave and strong but he never got there, Petyr's voice beat him to it. 

“I can see you're not very bright so I'll explain like adults always have to for infants. I'll tell you a story.” The older man leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “Once upon a time there was a golden lion with three cubs. The eldest of which was the prodigal son, the next was a beautiful lioness with claws sharper than any other, but the last child was small and the golden lion dismissed him as nothing more than a monster paying no attention to his intellect, because although the little lion was small in size his mind was vast and full.”

“What the fuck?!”

“Shush! I'm telling a story. All children like stories.” Petyr cleared his throat and continued. “Now, the golden lion was powerful but he still wanted more, it was never enough for his liking, so he started a new business beyond the one he already had. He started to traffic young girls, drugs and weapons. All the things a lion shouldn't do. Over time the golden lion owned almost everything, until he met the Stags, who owned everything else. You see the stags were just as powerful but they weren't corrupt like the lions. The golden lion wanted what they had and so he married his daughter lioness off to the leader of the stags, called it sharing what they had and all was right with the world. But this is a Grimm story, not Disney. All  _was_ right with the world until the stag grew suspicious, so suspicious in fact that he went to his friend the wolf for help. You see the wolves were the law and posed a threat to the golden lion. The stag and wolf knowing they had no evidence turned to the little lion for aid, the third child hated his father for how he'd been treated and so was quick to grant them help. The little lion told them of all he knew, everything the wolf needed to know, yet tales were not all the wolf needed to convict, evidence was crucial. Evidence meant they needed the mockingbird for he had everything that the golden lion hid, picked it up with his talons and carried it off for a rainy day. So together the mockingbird, little lion, wolf and stag built their case, but then something happened. Something that the golden lion's daughter couldn't tolerate. The stag learnt that his child, the antlered lion, had no stag in him. These antlers were fake and would easily fall from his blonde crown. The lioness and her prodigal brother had parented the child, as well as her two other children. The shame and consequences that would follow couldn't be allowed, so before the idea had fully formed in the mother lion's head she sent blades to kill her stag husband and made it look like a hunting accident. All thought it a tragedy but the mockingbird, little lion and wolf knew the truth. Somehow though the lioness found out about the wolf and her younger brother, most of the law was owned by the lions, they didn't know about the mockingbird though for he was smart and cunning. The little lion fled but the wolf was no so lucky. On a dark night when the moon was full and the wolf was with his pack the lioness attacked and the wolf was murdered. His beautiful wife and her innocence children butchered and burnt to the point that no one realised what the lioness had done. She spoilt her bastard son and took him a toy, a young wolf by the name of Sansa Stark. A sweet eight year old girl that the bastard lion raped, beat and tortured until she could barely remember her own name.”

“Who cares?!” Came Joffrey's interruption, pausing the story. The blonde coughed. “She was just a plaything. This story is boring and lies.”

“Oh, have you got a bit of a cough? Drink your whiskey, you'll feel better.” 

Joffrey downed what was left in the glass and his soft coughs stopped. 

“Let's get back to the story, shall we Joffrey?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Years went by and the inbred lion grew up, he kept the girl chained and naked. The wolf thought this was to be her life forever, until one night when the bastard lion was arrested and the mockingbird was sent to clean it up. Do you know what he found? He found the wolf.” Joffrey coughed again, this time louder than before. “And do you know what he did?” Petyr uncrossed his legs. “Sansa come here please.” 

Sansa had been waiting for that moment, she clicked her heels only a few steps to his side and let him pull her into his lap; her body vibrated with fear. She took a deep breath as he pulled off her long black wig revealing the red underneath; Joffrey's eyes widened as he coughed. 

“He took her for his own and made the wolf a promise. Kill whatever hurt her and take his own revenge at the same time.”

“So what?!” He coughed. “You're going to try and...” He coughed again, loud and from the back of his throat. “... kill me, Littlefinger?” 

Petyr laughed. 

“No. Sansa killed you five minutes ago. I'm just here to tell you why. Think of me as the narrator of this little tale.”

The bastard lion's eyes fell to the empty glass before him with realisation, he was already dead. His face started to grow purple and the coughing grated against his throat making it bleed. 

“Do you want to watch him die, Sweetling?” 

“No.” Came her soft voice, she wasn't afraid any more, there was nothing Joffrey could do to hurt her. “He doesn't deserve anyone to be there when he dies. He should be alone and scared in the dark.” 

“Home it is then. Up.” 

Sansa stood along with Baelish who took a pair of black latex gloves from his suit pocket, slipping them on before picking up the glass he drank from and wiping it with a handkerchief. From another pocket he produced a small black plastic box from which he took a small piece of tape, pressing it to the clean glass a fingerprint was transferred; the fingerprint of one Kaegan Irelan. At that moment Joffrey slipped from his chair onto the floor with a loud thud, he wasn't dead yet but there was no saving him. The poison Sansa had put into his glass would work slowly and drag out his pain. Sansa held Lady's leash and made no sounds at all as Petyr rounded the table to retrieve the bottle Sansa had poured from, wiping it down before crouching down to Joffrey and pressing his hand to it. 

“It's all well and good putting prints onto the glass but Joffrey owns this bottle, its half empty too so his fingerprints need to be on it. It would be suspicious if his weren't there.” He explained but Sansa remained silent. 

Petyr repeated the action with the poisoned glass while the blonde gasped for air on the hardwood floor. 

“You know, from the noise he's making I'd think he was in pain.” Petyr said with sarcasm. 

“Karma.” 

Baelish laughed, his girl could be dark when she wanted to be. 

“Come on, Sweetling. Let's go home.” 

Sansa took his hand and let him guide her to the door but they both came to a dead stop about a foot from it.  _Was that crying?_ Cautiously  Petyr, Sansa and Lady made their way up the stairs leaving Joffrey alone, the redhead didn't want to ever enter Joffrey's bedroom again but the crying grew louder and something inside her made Sansa want to run to it. Petyr pushed open the door to Joffrey's room and sighed. 

“Oh God.” 

There on the bed was a dead woman with long copper hair just like Sansa's, she'd been strangled with the bedsheets. That wasn't what had their attention though, sat on the floor crying his eyes out was a baby boy, Joffrey had drawn a target on his forehead with a black marker. Sansa didn't know what this feeling inside her was but she barged passed her Master and over to the child before she knew she'd moved, she pulled the young boy, not even a year old, into her arms and held him close. 

“Master-?”

“I know.” He interrupted. “Joffrey's killed before, but a baby?” Even Petyr drew the line at hurting children, the boy in Sansa's arms could have been more than ten months old.

“Master, we can't leave him here.” 

It was true, but Petyr really didn't like children. 

“Fine, bring him. He'll be half dead by the time someone finds Joffrey anyway. And grab that bag.”

Sansa grinned and threw the powder blue bag covered in clouds over her shoulder, she had no idea what it was but didn't care to ask at that moment in time. Petyr took Lady's leash and Sansa followed him back down the stairs, the whole time she could practically hear the cogs in her Master's head turning; he was plotting something. 

Joffrey was bleeding from almost every orifice and the coughing had turned into quiet almost none existent gags; he'd be gone soon. His face was purple and Sansa hoped it hurt. Petyr clicked off the lights with a still gloved hand as they left, leaving Joffrey alone in the dark to die. And that was exactly what he deserved. Everything was dark and so silent it hurt his bleeding ears and then... 

...nothing. 


	20. The Day After Yesterday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have we really gotten to 20 chapters already? It seems like only last week I posted the first chapter. BIG thank you to everyone who has commented, bookmarked and left kudos, I love you all.

They'd re-entered the house not an hour before and Sansa had taken the young boy straight upstairs to clean off that ridiculous marker from his little cherub-like face. Petyr himself stood in his kitchen practically guzzling fifty year old whiskey down. 

“I take it my dear nephew is no more.” Came Tyrion's voice form behind him and Petyr turned to face the blonde dwarf with a frown. 

“Yes, Joffrey is dead.” Petyr said flatly and Tyrion smiled to himself as though he'd been told a joke. 

“I've just thought, the only members of my family I don't want dead is Jaime, Tommen and Myrcella, and I'm still indifferent about Jaime. Does that make me a terrible sibling and son?” He asked absent-mindedly. 

“No.” Was Petyr's quick reply. “It means they're bad family.”

“Sansa was crying when you came back, sounded like a scared infant. I told you she wasn't ready for this but you just had-” Petyr cut Tyrion off with a raised hand. 

“She didn't cry, she's rather a lot darker than we all believe. And the crying was the baby.” Baelish drained another glass of whiskey before setting his crystal tumbler down and pouring more rich amber liquid into it. 

“Baby?” Tyrion's confused expression was almost comical.

“Tyrion can we please do this tomorrow? It's one in the morning and I want sleep.”

He didn't give the Lannister time to respond he just walked away leaving Tyrion alone in the dark kitchen with a half drunk bottle of single malt. Petyr's feet carried him into the vestibule and up the stairs towards Sansa's room, sipping slowly as he went. If he was asked Baelish would have said he drank so much whiskey that night to get the taste of Joffrey's blended crap out of his palate, but in reality he was trying to forget just how much like her mother Sansa looked. Holding that baby with tear-y eyes had been just like Catelyn when she first had Robb. The amber liquid seemed to have done its job though, at least for a short time, and Petyr managed to open her bedroom door letting his feet carry him inside. There he found his beautiful redhead holding a sleeping infant wrapped in a navy blanket in her arms. Sansa looked stunning sat cross-legged on her bed humming quietly to the boy. 

“Master, what's going to happen to Tristan?” Her voice was quiet?

“Tristan?” He questioned as he moved into the bedroom, looking down at the pale-faced child with short black locks. “How do you know his name?”

“There was a blanket in the bag you told me to bring.” Clearly the one he was wrapped in now. “There's a 'T' on it. You told me about Tristan and Isolde last night so I thought we could call him that until we knew his name.” 

Something along the lines of _oh fuck she's named him_ went though Petyr's head but he didn't question her, he was too drunk and too tired to do that. 

“The mother's driving licence said her name was Leontine Yvaine, I have a contact in the office of births, marriages and deaths who can get me her history and the name of the child.” Petyr wetted his lips. “Once we have that we can leave him with his family, does that sound good?” 

“Yes, Master.” She didn't want the boy to be alone. “But what if Tristan doesn't have any family?” 

“Then he goes to a hospital, they'll take care of him. Now, how you get him to calm down?”

Sansa looked up but only to her Master's nose, never any higher, before answering him. 

“I used your laptop to see how to get a baby to stop crying. It said other things too, there's milk in the bag but the website said it shouldn't be really cold like it is now..” 

_Gods she really has looked into this._

“When he wakes I'll warm it up for you. I'm going to feed Lady and the go to bed.”

Just because he didn't like children didn't mean he wouldn't help Sansa who already seemed to adore the child. He heard an  _ okay Master  _ as he left the room to feed Lady, the animal was grateful and ate quickly. Tyrion had vanished from the kitchen which meant one of two things, either he'd gone to bed or, the more likely, had gone to the library to read and drink. Petyr would probably find him there the next morning having passed out.  He screwed the cap back onto his bottle of single malt and pushed it back so a drunk Tyrion wouldn't knock it off accidentally before heading back to Sansa's room. The light was off but Petyr went in anyway, Sansa had stripped off the revealing outfit leaving it folded neatly on the dresser and donned the orange shirt he'd given her to sleep in. His girl lay on her side, hair flowing around her head like a copper crown with the baby in her arms; motherhood suited her. Petyr wasn't stupid, he knew she wanted to protect this little life the way he had protected her, but the baby would be gone by the end of  the next day, two at most. It would upset his girl but she'd know he was safe and loved. As he stared down at the two of them the Cleaner felt the liquor kicking in and it was going to be a  _ very  _ long day when the sun came up, what with Vaith Incorporated and the dead bastard of Ja im e and Cersei Lannister of course. No matter what Petyr had a solid alibi, with a little knowledge of the cameras at The Mockingbird, Teiichi who was basically his  doppelgänger and a duplicate mockingbird pin, no one would know. Petyr had been using that one  for a good five years and police were still none the wiser, as long as one of his beloved Aston Martins were parked outside and they saw that pin, they assumed it was Baelish and moved on with their  enquiries.  Especially when Teiichi would drive his car back to Petyr's home when the club closed, Petyr didn't like anyone but him driving his cars but Teiichi had proved himself capable. 

He'd done all that, had a little too much to drink and his body just collapsed down next to Sansa still dressed, only toeing off his shoes before his eyes fell shut and sleep took him; thankfully baby Tristan was a good sleeper and didn't wake the whole house. 

 

XXXX

 

The sun had been up for a few hours when Tristan began to wriggle in Sansa's arms, Petyr had always been a light sleeper so it woke him before his girl; he knew he was late for work but to be honest the executives only showed up when they wanted to or had a huge pile of paperwork. After last night Sansa deserved all the sleep she could get, killing Joffrey Baratheon was no small thing, that was how he found himself pulling the child into his arms and grabbing one of the bottles of milk before carrying him downstairs before Sansa could be roused. He didn't like children, had always found them annoying and demanding, even when he was a child himself. No, Petyr didn't like children at all and yet there he was at nine in the morning heading to the kitchen to feed a baby. Much to his pleasure Tristan didn't make too much noise but he did wriggle as he blathered to himself. As soon as Petyr entered the open plan kitchen Tyrion's head poked up from the couch, seemed that was where he'd passed out for the evening, the blonde looked tired but was full of questions about Tristan. Petyr supported the child on his hip in one arm while other filled a pan with water and sat the bottle in it to warm, he'd seen Catelyn do it enough times to be able to warm a bottle. Tyrion was shirtless and Lady had spent the night asleep on the lions legs. 

“Fuck. I thought you were kidding about the kid.”

Lady jumped up and came over to investigate the small human, soon enough the milk was warm and Tristan was drinking happily.

“Seriously, why is there a kid?” Tyrion asked again and Petyr realised he'd ignored the last time the blonde had asked. 

“Well your moron of a nephew either abducted a young woman and her son or, I don't know, paid her to fuck him with her son there. All I know is that the mother is dead and Sansa wouldn't leave the child. That didn't surprise me. He'll be going to family as soon as my contact is done, as for Sansa she needs her sleep, especially since she got up to change him.”

“You don't like kids do you?” Tyrion grinned while searching for his shirt. 

“No.” Came Petyr's quick answer. 

“Really? And yet you seem to have your father hat on right now.” 

“No, I'm just a skilled actor.” Tristan slurped happily and Tyrion pulled his deep red shirt out from under the coffee table with a look of accomplishment. 

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. I'm going to take a shower, you enjoy your daddy and me time.”

With that Tyrion was gone and Petyr wanted to throw something at the dwarf but Tristan was eating quietly and he wasn't going to deal with a crying child if he didn't have to.

 

XXXX

 

Everything had blown up that day. The news went mental with stories of Joffrey's murder, there were reports from outside his home and Lion and Stag. As soon as Petyr stepped off the elevator he found things eerily silent, apparently Cersei had found him, dry blood dripping from his face with ice cold skin, when he hadn't answered her calls. From the looks of the fifty-first floor everyone was too scared to voice an opinion on the subject, even Pycelle kept his mouth shut; which was a miracle if ever there was one. There wasn't a single Lannister in sight yet the dominating power and threat remained. 

“Good morning, Gwendolyn.” Petyr greeted upon reaching his assistants desk. 

“Morning, Mister Baelish. I'm not sure we can say _good_ though.”

“Yes, such a tragedy. Is there any mail?” He asked while glancing down to his watch.

“This was couriered for you this morning.” The kind blonde assistant handed him a manilla envelope. “Oh, and Mister Lannister has moved today's meeting from one-thirty to three o'clock. I can't blame him, poor man.” She was probably the only person on that floor that felt bad over Joffrey's death;  _ too kind a heart the stupid girl.  _ Petyr turned towards his office but Gwendolyn stopped him. “Sir, Mister Varys also left a list of Ramsay Bolton's men for you, I put it on your desk.”

“Thank you. Get me some coffee would you?” He asked with a smile his head didn't ache from the amount of whiskey he'd drank the previous evening but the threat was there.

“Of course, Sir.”

“I'll be in my office for most of the day, if anyone calls tell them I'm out unless it's Alayne.” 

“How is your niece, Mister Baelish?” Gwendolyn seemed to perk up at the mention of his darling Sansa, who wouldn't? “She's a beautiful girl.”

_She's trying to drag me into conversation again_ said  Petyr's mind and though he didn't want to talk to his assistant he needed to stay polite; Gwendolyn was  _very_ good at her job. 

“Yes she is and Alyane is fine, thank you for asking.”

Before the blonde could ask anything more Petyr darted into his office and out of sight. He spent what was left of the morning going over the list of names Varys had left him and got most of the information he needed back rather quickly, with most of them it was nothing more than traffic violations but Ramsay was a different story all together. There were several assault and assault with a deadly weapon charges but most of them seem to have been dropped for one reason or another, most recently it seemed that a man and a baseball bat had an altercation. If anything that would work as a boon for Lion and Stag, or at least for a while. Petyr worked quietly for a long time, only ever speaking to have Gwendolyn bring him more rich black coffee , there was no headache but the dry mouth symptom of a hangover clung to him, as he worked Baelish couldn't help but wonder how Sansa was getting on with the child. Sansa hadn't called so he doubted that she'd lost control of Tristan, Tyrion was probably still laughing about Petyr feeding the boy that morning. 

W hen three o'clock rolled round Petyr finally left his office and padded along the labyrinth of hallways to the boardroom,  the Cleaner hadn't thought Tywin would put off work after Joffrey's death,  he wasn't the sort of man for mourning, but it had happened and Petyr wouldn't go looking too much into it. He was last into the room and took his usual seat beside Varys,  Tywin went on for a time about him being away for a week or so, he never said it but they all knew it was to keep Cersei from doing something stupid and because the press expected it. 

“Baelish you're in charge while I'm away and Jaime is in Dorne.” Petyr raised an eyebrow. “I trust none of you as far as I can throw you, especially you Baelish. However, you're the only one who seems competent with money and knows how to run a business properly. You better enjoy keeping my throne warm for me because it's the closest you're ever going to get to my kingdom. Fuck this up and you're dead.” Tywin warned. 

“I rarely _fuck up.”_ Petyr grinned. 

The meeting went on as normal after that, Pycelle kept shooting him odd glances that said  _I've been here longer, why you?_ Petyr ignored this, Pycelle was just an annoying old man who thought he had more power than he actually did.  Vaith had fallen enough for them to go in for the kill and Petyr had just been assigned temporary Vice President status, now if he could just get rid of the child and dwarf in his house everything would be wonderful. The meeting didn't last long once Tywin and Varys had gone over his findings on Ramsay Bolton's men, with  _get them some ID tags_ they were hired and the meeting was over. 

Petyr sauntered back to his office with a smug grin  and passed Gwendolyn who was typing up his weekly schedule, once back in his leather chair he reached for the manilla envelope that had been couriered to him, opening it proved far more difficult because an angry lioness burst into his office with a look that could cut diamonds. Gwendolyn wore an expression of fear as she quietly shut the door leaving them alone, Cersei slammed her fists down on the table almost growling at Baelish who wasn't overly impressed. With a sigh the Cleaner set his envelope down for another time and gave Cersei the attention sh e so clearly wanted. 

“Yes?” He asked expectantly.

Petyr had never seen Cersei show much emotion beyond anger and hate, yet the slight running of her mascara and the redness in her eyes indicated she'd been crying; Petyr liked that look on her.  _That's right, suffer._

“My son was murdered!” She all but yelled. “I want who did it to hurt, to burn on a spit and watch as their heart is ripped from their body! I want them to hurt! To suffer! To regret the day they were born!” 

_Yes, make them hurt, I get the message._

“Does Jaime know?”

He asked out of curiosity rather than responding to anything the lioness had said. The mention of Jaime seemed to calm her a little and she stood up straight and took a deep breath. 

“Yes. Police think they know who did this to my boy but they won't tell me who until they have him in custody. Not even my informants.”

“Because they know that will get straight back to them-”

“Who cares?!” She cut him off with a growl. “My baby boy is gone. Viciously murdered. Find who did this and kill them, make blood drip from the walls.” 

_ Perfect, two birds one stone. I can get rid of Kaegan Irelan before he tells anyone about the service I provide and Cersei thinks I'm working for her.  _

“Of course, Cersei. This is what I do.” He told her with a grin. 

“Good. I want who did this to feel the pain my son felt ten fold.”

Without so much as a  _ bye _ she was gone, storming back out of his office leaving Gwendolyn to close the door yet again, except she didn't. The blonde loitered in his doorway for a moment or two with a worried look on her face before finally finding the strength to speak. 

“Em, Mister Baelish? Are you alright?” 

“Yes, thank you Gwendolyn.” He sighed and leaned back against his chair.

“I know you didn't want disturbing but Miss Lannister was rather demanding.” 

“She always is. It's okay. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

He brushed Gwendolyn off with a reassuring smile and was grateful when she shut the door rather than questioning him any further. Petyr just wanted to go home to Sansa, but that child and Tyrion were still there. Less than a year had gone by and Baelish had the last Stark in his bed, thinking she belonged to him,  _ let's face the facts she does, Sansa is mine,  _ and dog who he'd actually grown to like living in his house. He knew Tyrion wouldn't be leaving for a while yet but the baby would be gone by the end of the next day, either with his father or to a hospital; Petyr didn't care which.  The manilla envelope lay forgotten for the rest of the day as Petyr worked through everything needed to finally take over Vaith Incorporated, he was there until the sky had turned dark and Gwendolyn hand gone home to her son;  he liked the office at night when it was quiet. Baelish couldn't stay there forever though and eventually flicked off his desk lamp and headed home. 


	21. Burnt Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not Sunday yet but I'm posting this chapter today because there's more chance of Jeremy Renner agreeing to marry me than me finding time to post it tomorrow. I can still live in hope about Jeremy Renner though.
> 
> Enjoy your Petyr/Sansa fix because this chapter is just full of fluff.

When he finally got home and pulled the Aston into his garage Petyr went straight to his bedroom and changed into his sleep pants and a loose navy t-shirt that showed off his tattoo sleeve, it had always been just for him but Sansa seemed to adore it, maybe it was her artistic mindset. When he went back down stairs he found Sansa sat at the dining table feeding Tristan who ate happily in her arms, it was pasta bake but to Sansa it just looked like gloop; Tristan seemed to like it though. 

“Hello, Sweetling.” He greeted his girl with a kiss to her pink lips. 

“Hello, Master. Tyrion asked me to tell you he went to the club.” She told him while lifting another spoon of baby food to the young boy's lips. "He said he wouldn't be back until morning.” 

“Why am I not surprised?”  It also explained the text from Olyvar saying only  _the dwarf has landed._ “How is the boy?” He asked more for Sansa than actually caring. 

“Tristan is perfect, I know it's late but he had a long nap and was hungry. He's been really good all day. He needs more food though, there is only one more left.” 

“That's all he needs.” Petyr poured himself a glass of deep red wine and took a sip while leaning against the breakfast bar, he could see Sansa only a few feet from him, her shoulders dropped as the child finished his food. “I got his records from my contact today, haven't opened it yet though, every time I tried someone stormed into my office.”

Sansa tried to smile and look happy for the boy but Petyr wasn't stupid, he knew if the boy stayed any longer she'd grow attached; it was the mothering instinct she got from Catelyn, he couldn't let that happen.

“See you can go home, I'm sure they miss you.” Sansa told the young boy with a smile.

With Tristan having finished his meal Sansa cleaned around his mouth and tidied up the dining table while Petyr went and got the envelope. He begrudgingly agreed to hold the boy when she wanted to wash her hand, he'd met worse children but he still wasn't sure about Tristan or whatever his real name was. The reason Petyr didn't like children was mainly because they didn't like him, but this one seemed to which was diffrent, there was no crying or angry faces.  _Alright child, you and I can get along for one more night._ When Sansa was done she quickly took Tristan back and Petyr was thankful for that, he knew why she didn't want to let him go, the boy was alone and she was alone for so long. She  _needed_ to take care of him. A few moments later saw the three of them sat on the couch with Lady snoozing in her big basket happily, Sansa cuddled the boy close.  _She'd make a good mother, gets it from Cat._ Then it struck him, she'd been with Joffrey and his so-called friends for a decade. 

“Sansa,” He started cautiously, praying to any deity that would listen that he was wrong. “have... have you... have you ever had a baby?” Oh Gods why hadn't he asked this sooner? Sansa just stared at his chin, never any higher, in confusion and Petyr took that as a cause to elaborate; he thought for a moment. “Has your stomach ever got large and round?”  _Fuck! She has no idea how her own body works._

“No, Master”

“Oh thank fuck!” Petyr released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

He seriously doubted Joffrey had ever used a condom, probably didn't know what one was, which meant that one of them couldn't have children and he really doubted it was Sansa.  _ Has to be the incestuous bastard!  _

“What does my stomach have to do with a baby, Master?” She asked while cuddling a dozing Tristan.

_Shit!_ He was going to have to explain now, he'd never expected to do that,  especially not to a girl he was having sex with on a regular basis.  Petyr took a breath and started as best he could. 

“Em, okay. How much did you research when looking up how to take care of Tristan?” He asked calmly, he needed to know if she had any idea what he was going to tell her.

“Just how to feed and change him.” She answered.

“Right.” Petyr really didn't want to do this. “The purpose of sex, other than enjoyment, is to make a baby.” He spoke slowly to make sure she kept up, though he'd rather just speed through it and leave the room. Her expression was growing more and more confused by the second. “The seminal fluid - the liquid that comes...”  _Gods this is awkward,_ Petyr wasn't embarrassed about explaining, he just didn't like the blank look of perplexity he got from her. “... out of men. Well, that goes into you, a female, and combines with these little eggs in you. Then it grows into a baby over nine months inside the woman, that's why your stomach would have gotten round. After those months the child is born and you have a baby, like Tristan but smaller.” 

Sansa was quiet for a long time taking it all in, it seemed very strange and a little impractical but she guessed this was something everyone knew so maybe it wasn't strange to them. 

“That's never happened, Master.” She deadpanned.

“Good.” He seemed rather pleased with her answer and Sansa could only guess as to why. “Let's never have this conversation again.” Sansa nodded but still found herself speaking. 

“So that's how we were made?” Petyr nodded. “Doesn't that hurt?” 

She felt a little silly when he snorted.

“Making a child doesn't but the birth, that hurts. However, there are drugs to help with that now.”

Petyr made to stand up and wander through the house to his home office to finish off some paperwork for the next day - hide was probably a better description - but he never got there because Sansa was filling his arms with Tristan; he'd have preferred it if she hadn't. 

“Would you hold Tristan while I go to the bathroom?”

_I don't have much choice now do I?_ His mind muttered as she stood up, despite what his mind mumbled he answered a little differently. 

“Of course, Sweetling.” 

While Sansa was gone Petyr found himself sat there with Tristan held under his armpits to face the Cleaner. Petyr Baelish didn't like children, most people learned this right after they learned never to trust him, however, there he was holding an young boy who clung to Copper. 

“You know, you're the first child I've held since Arya Stark. That was back when I saw a lot of Cat.” He added the last bit as an after thought. “The Stark children called me _Uncle_ for a time, even Sansa. I didn't like holding them, save for Sansa she'd always smile at me. Her hair was such a bold red even back then.” Petyr paused for a second while the boy just looked at him. “Does that make me a pervert, Tristan? That I held her like I'm holding you and yet now she calls me _Master_ and I have sex with her? Don't look so worried, you're safe from me.”

Suddenly a memory came to his mind, something he'd forgotten a decade ago, _after the fire._ Sansa came back into the room but found Petyr and Tristan gone, she tilted her head to see into the kitchen but he wasn't there either, just as the girl turned to go in search of her Master he re-entered the room with Tristan rested on a hip in one arm with a white, but slightly singed, book in the other. 

“I forgot all about this.” It sounded like he was talking to himself more than Sansa. “Sweetling take a seat.” 

Sansa obeyed and petted Lady on the head when she came to sit beside her on the floor, in seconds Petyr was at her side on the couch holding out the charred book, she took it. 

“What is it, Master?” The redhead asked while opening it to the first page.

“It was your mother's photo album.” He said softly. “Cersei burnt your home down after... after your parents and siblings died. She didn't know I was helping Ned and sent me to make sure her man hadn't left evidence. They hadn't but while going through the rubble I found this. You're Mother adored this, she was never far from it. I wanted to see if any of you had somehow survived but there were seven bodies carted off by the police, this was all I found that was somewhat intact.” He seemed more pained by the memory than Sansa did. “The seventh body everyone thought was you must have been the maid's daughter, the maid vanished soon after. It was probably to stop her talking. I don't know exactly why I took this, I was angry and not thinking. It's yours now.” 

Sansa looked at the pictures, the book was large and most of the photographs had survived the fire which was a miracle in itself. The ones at the front were of a family of five; Mother, Father, two red haired girls and a brunette boy. A few pages later there was a second boy with messy black hair and moss colored eyes.  _ That's after your Grandfather, Hoster, took me in.  _ Her Master had said softly. 

“This one is your Aunt Lysa and the boy is your Uncle Edmure.” 

Pages continued to turn and Sansa watched as her Mother aged, growing from a young girl to a smiling teenager. The group shots that included Petyr showed the Lysa woman always a little  _too_ close to him and Sansa felt a small pang of jealousy vibrate through her. Around ten or so pages in she found one of her Mother in a flowing white dress cutting a flower covered cake beside a man with long dirty blonde hair. 

“Whose he?” The blue eyed girl asked. 

“That's your father. It was taken on their wedding day.” 

More pages turned and Petyr actually forgot that he held Tristan in his arms, the boy was asleep and so quiet. 

“Is that one of my brothers? What was my youngest brother's name? Rikard?” Her voice was a little hesitant. 

“No, Sweetling. You're youngest brother was named Rickon.” She smiled having finally been given the answer to a question she'd asked herself for so many years. “As for this, it's Robb just after he was born, your eldest brother. And this-” Petyr cut himself off as he turned the white page and pointed to another photograph. “This is me holding him, you're Mother forced me into that.” 

“You were so young.” She smiled and then started to panic. “Not that you're old, Master. I didn't mean that.” Seeing his smile Sansa calmed knowing he wasn't angry and tried to carry on. “How did you know my Mother, Master?” 

“Like I said, your Grandfather took me in when my father died. I was raised with her.” 

Petyr left out the part about him being in love with her for most of his life, said nothing about how Lysa had been obsessed with him; still was. Nor did he mention her Uncle Edmure's gambling issues, none of these things she needed to know and they would only worry her. Yes they were her only living family besides Robin but she'd never be going anywhere near them. Lysa was crazy with a capital  _what the fuck_ and Edmure couldn't care less if she was alive or dead. No, her Aunt and Uncle would be kept far away from his girl. 

“Is that Jon?” She suddenly questioned knocking Petyr from his thoughts. 

“Yes. Do you remember him?” Sansa nodded with a smile. “He was your cousin, after your father's sister died they raised him.” He watched as her face furrowed in a frown. 

“I thought he was my brother.”

“You and the others treated him like that but no, Jon was your cousin.” He didn't like that look on her face and quickly wiped it off by pointing at another image, this was all very domestic but Petyr wanted her to remember her family, especially Cat. “This is you and me.” 

Petyr hadn't spent much time with Cat and the Starks after Sansa was born and almost none after Arya's birth, Ned had never liked him and with Lannister Incorporated growing in size Petyr just didn't have time. When the Lannisters and the Baratheons merged forming Lion and Stag Enterprises there had been even less time to spend with Catelyn. In fact that image of him holding a new born Sansa was the last picture of him in the album, almost like he'd faded out of existence. 

“So you've always taken care of me.”

It wasn't a question and once again Petyr was tugged from his thoughts. Tears started to form in Sansa's eyes, he didn't like her crying but it was something she'd only just learnt to do again, thankfully it was out of happiness rather than sorrow. She was his girl and Petyr adored her, he pulled Sansa to him in a one-armed hug, that was when he realised Tristan was still asleep in the other so let her take him back. 

“Thank you, Master. For giving me this.”

“Of course, Sweetling. You're mother would have wanted you to have it, and it's still half empty, we can take plenty of pictures of you to fill it.” Sansa liked that idea. “Now, why don't we look at Tristan's family? I've been trying to open this envelope all day.” 

The sooner he opened it the sooner he could get rid of the boy. Sansa shuffled Tristan so as he had his little head rested against her shoulder. She didn't want the boy to go but he would be happiest with his family, she watched as her Master ripped open the envelope and started to read, stormy eyes flicking across the page easily, she longed for the day when she could read so quickly. Sansa watched an eyebrow raise which meant something hadn't gone the way he wanted and Petyr was now mentally changing his plans as he leaned back on the couch. 

“It seems his name is actually Thorin Marx, he's eleven months old.”

“I prefer Tristan.” She mumbled to herself but Petyr heard it anyway and answered.

“So do I. Leontine Yvaine, his mother, has no living family. Just a prostitute, so why was the child with her?” He asked himself absent-mindedly before throwing away his thoughts and carrying on. “The father is Korbin Marx... whose in prison for rape of a minor.” 

“Please don't give Tristan to him, Master.” Sansa pleaded despite it not being necessary.

“Don't worry, baby girl, I won't. I couldn't anyway.” Petyr leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple in soft reassurance. “There is a paternal Grandmother but that's it, and it's only a last known address. It'll take a few days to find her according to this.”

Her Master seemed perturbed by that, Sansa wasn't stupid she knew he wanted Tristan gone.

“Does that mean Tristan can stay until then?” She asked hopefully.

Petyr knew why she wanted to keep him, but there was no way he was going to keep the boy. A dog was one thing but an eleven month old? No, the boy was going. However he relented.

“Yes, Sweetling. You can keep him a few more days, but he's going.” He needed her to remember that. 

Petyr was fully aware if the boy stayed longer it would all blow up in his face, he couldn't let Sansa get too attached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, so much fluff.


	22. Crimson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Death, Torture
> 
> Petyr does some monologuing.

Petyr leaned back in his home office chair with his cellphone glued to his ear by one hand while the other tapped a pen rhythmically against the dark wood of his desk. The sun was high  in the sky and he was expected at Lion and Stag for a meeting at three, he wasn't going to make that though; _ note to self. Have Gwendolyn send my regards to  Pycelle.  _ To be honest he was debating not going to that just to piss the older man off but now he had a legitimate reason, not that he could tell Pycelle that.

“When was Irelan brought into holding?” He asked his police contact, one Tannis K uznets. 

“ _An hour and a half ago, other than him there's only one guy in the drunk tank and he's out cold.”_ Tannis told him. _“He'll be moved in five hours to a prison cell to await trial. Detective Sparrow wants to throw the book and the library at him. You know what Detective 'high and mighty' Sparrow is like.”_

“Which prison?”

“ _Probably The Sept, it's the closest and Governor Baelor will want all the attention to be on his prison, the murderer of Joffrey Baratheon will certainly do that.” _

“Alright, I'll be there in an hour.”

With that Petyr hung up on Tannis and shot up from his desk, he'd only had to wait a day and a half for evidence to be processed and Kaegan Irelan to be arrested and taken to the local station. Detective Sparrow was all about faith and repenting of sins, by which he meant  _confess so I look good and get promoted again,_ Sparrow was more corrupt than the criminals - which was made worse by the fact he actually thought he was doing the right thing - and Petyr knew he couldn't let the bold bastard get to him before Petyr did.  The dark-haired man who grew grey at his temples knew he only had a short window to do as Cersei wanted and of course cover his own back. Kaegan knew his real job and was the only threat to himself and Sansa, or at least for that week he was. 

Petyr took the Kukri he had on display from his wall and looked at the blade, it was inwardly curved and sharper than it looked. The hilt was oak stained black with a deep red stone on the pommel.  He'd always liked dinner and a show. With a new box of black latex gloves thrown into his trusty duffel bag and a dark hoodie folded neatly beside the box Petyr was ready to  clean up his loose end. He pressed a kiss to Sansa's pink lips before he left telling her he was going to The Mockingbird, which wasn't a complete lie, she was sat on the couch with Tristan, Lady and Tyrion but none of them noticed his lie. 

Baelish had already called Teiichi to meet him at  the club, he always doubled Petyr and the police were still yet to figure that out. Teiichi also loved money so was always willing to don one of Petyr's suits and drive his car home at the end of the day.  It didn't take long to swap places with Teiichi, slipping on his black hoodie and pulling the hood up before leaving out the back door where there were no cameras; Teiichi went off to do his job of being Petyr Baelish while the real one walked towards the police station. The King's Landing Police Department or KLPD was only around a fifteen minute walk from his club and soon enough Petyr's feet had carried him there, Tannis opened up the loading bay door for him and lead the Cleaner down a maze of grey-blue halls into the holding cells. 

“There's usually four of us in holding but Roth is out sick. The others got a secret ingredient when they sent me out for lunch that made them go night-night. They'll be out for a good hour.” Tannis Kuznets seemed impressed with himself but Petyr remained stoic. “I've already turned off the camera's for you.” 

“Good.” Petyr remarked quickly. “Where is he?” 

The Officer led Baelish down yet another grey-blue hallway that was littered with cell doors before coming to a halt outside the very last one on the left. Keys jangled as Kuznets looked for the right one, the lock slid out of place and opened granting Petyr entrance. 

“Remember you haven't got long.” The Officer warned as he closed the door behind the older man.

Kaegan was sat on the far end of his makeshift bed rubbing at his wrists where the handcuffs had been. 

“Finally, I want a lawyer and a sandwich... oh, and I want to update my facebook status.”

The movement stopped when he saw it was Baelish in his cell and shot to his feet, smugness and stupid comments gone. 

“What the fuck is going on here, Baelish?” The mocha skinned man demanded an answer but Petyr didn't grant one. “Are you 'ere to get me out? Thank the Gods, I was beginning to think I needed to call father. Dittmann Irelan is not a man I want to call right now.” 

Petyr ignored Kaegan's rambling and dropped his duffel bag to the floor with a solid thud. 

“Joffrey is dead.” Petyr said flatly. “All evidence points to you.”

“I didn't fucking kill him!”

“That's what all guilty people say.” Kaegan just scowled at the Cleaner. 

“Look, Joffrey was my best friend...” That was a lie. “... They said somethin' about a text I sent him and deleted, but I didn't. Baelish, I'm being framed!” 

“I know.”

Petyr's expression remained blank and unreadable while Kaegan's face grew a look that said  _oh thank the Gods_ but it was short lived and fell to its death quickly. 

“I'm the one who framed you.”

“ _What?!”_ Anger surged through Kaegan's body and spurted out his mouth in a growl. 

“You heard me.” The Cleaner's voice remained quiet and almost emotionless.

“You bastard!”

Kaegan launched himself at Petyr but the older man had been expecting it and easily dodged out of his way, he didn't stand a chance in a fight, Petyr knew that, and so his Colt Gold Cup came quickly to his hands and he fired, despite the suppressor the weapon still made a destinct sounding  _pop._ The bullet hit  Kaegan squarely in the back of the neck sending him to the floor in an instant, face down. 

“Don't bother trying to move, Kaegan, you can't. You see I'm rather good with firearms. You've been expertly hit in the neck, it's not a fatal wound, I missed every artery you have. However, you were paralysed before the bullet even left your body. Fortunately for me though, that doesn't mean you can't feel pain.”

Petyr lifted Kaegan's dead weight into his arms and laid the younger man out on the makeshift slab Police called a bed. It was pressed up against the wall on two sides so Petyr had little room to work with, he wouldn't let that stop him though. 

“Don't look so downtrodden, Kaegan. You'd have beaten me if we fought as you wished, but no one compares to me with a pistol.” He smiled. “You know, I've found that everything is falling into place with my little plan, it's been years in the making but we're almost in the final stage now. The curtain call is coming. Cersei commissioned your death, said she wanted it to hurt.” Petyr paused in his speech to retrieve the Kukri he'd taken from his home office out and played with it not four inches from Kaegan's face. “They say this blade is blessed, maybe it is or maybe it isn't, but I don't think that extends to those who take get in the chest.” He looked down to Irelan's bold brown and terrified eyes. “She wants blood to drip from the walls by the time I'm done with you and throughout the whole thing she wants you to be in tremendous agony. But I don't give a shit what Cersei Lannister wants, never did. I  _was_ going to do all those things to you but now you've forced me to shoot you I have a better idea, I'm not going to kill you because that would require mercy. I told Joffrey what he died for while I watched him choke, I'll tell you the reason too. T he reason has a name; Sansa Stark.” 

Confusion scattered across his face until suddenly realisation dawned on Kaegan and his breath quickened, Petyr was sure that if the younger man could have spoken beyond a few muffled sounds he'd have said something along the lines of _oh shit!_ Maybe he'd have mumbled about being sorry and beg for Petyr not to  hurt him but Baelish didn't care. Kaegan Irelan, youngest son of Dittmann Irelan was going to die... eventually. 

“No one hurts what's _mine.”_ Petyr all but growled into the mocha skinned man's ear. 

Petyr stood straight and pulled Kaegan's left hand up and let the Kukri slash the webbing between each digit. Tears welled in Kaegan's eyes and Petyr knew this was only the start of the younger man discovering how Sansa felt for all those years. 

“Sansa killed Joffrey, she needed to, but I have all this pent up rage inside. I don't normally get angry and I may seem calm but that's far from the truth. I need someone to take it out on and you're the next best option. You're going to get the pain of two men, three actually if you count Duvall Hitachiin, which I most assuredly do. I could use this Kukri on you but to be honest I only brought it to scare you, it's much to beautiful and expensive to let you cover it in your blood, plus I'm not actually going to kill you, Kaegan. But you'll wish I had.” 

Kaegan's eyes rolled as far as they could to the left in order to keep Petyr under observation as he rummaged in his back only to pull out a pair of latex gloves, snapping them on, followed by a silver scalpel. Baelish returned and started to cut away at Irelan's t-shirt, fabric roughly grating against the blade. Next came the slashing to his other hand, the blood ran crimson and brown eyes screamed in agony but not a word could he say; nothing but quiet, pathetic little squeaks that Baelish didn't seem to even register. 

“You don't look at what's mine.” Petyr said almost in a whisper and that terrified Kaegan more than anything else, the fact his voice was so calm. “And above all else you don't  _fuck_ what's mine.”

A muffled squeak escaped Kaegan's lips. Did that mean-? Petyr laughed. 

“No. No, you'd start bleeding out if I took that off and I want you alive for a while yet.” Petyr twirled the glistening scalpel in his hand. “Do you know how we discovered what goes on inside us? How we found out what makes humans tick? We cut our way into bodies and took a look for ourselves. What makes you tick, I wonder.? Each time you decided to _play_ with Sansa she felt like a piece of her was being torn away, I don't know how many of those scars you put on her but I've had enough time to memorize every singe one.”

Kaegan's heart beat so hard that it vibrated through Petyr's blade  as he pressed it to trembling mocha skin. Slashes were quick and deep enough to scar, that was the whole point after all; to make Irelan know how his Sansa had felt for all those years. Petyr had just wanted to rip him apart when he answered the phone to Tannis, cut away his eyelids and open him up like some live autopsy but the pain would be over too soon for Baelish's liking, letting him live would be cruel beyond death. Crimson blood dripped from small but deep cuts, each mark would disfigure him just like every cicatrix on Sansa's beautiful body.  When he was done with Kaegan's chest Petyr used the large Kukri blade to cut away Irelan's jeans and started on the legs. The younger mocha skinned man was crying now, wet tears falling down his cheeks, if they were caused by pain or regret Petyr neither new nor cared. It didn't matter if Kaegan was sorry, it wouldn't change everything that had been done to Sansa. 

“Sansa was chained by the neck unable to move, her body was used as a fucking canvas, she was raped so often that she has no idea how many times and she was denied a voice.” Petyr ghosted his eyes over his handy work. “You can't move, these will scar in time, we've already discussed castrating so what's missing?” 

Petyr snapped his fingers in realisation. Kaegan watched helplessly as the Cleaner went back to his duffel bag, fear ran through his blood at what awaited him. Torturing someone was all very different when you became the victim.

“Denied a voice.” Petyr said with a slight smile. “I know you can only mumble hopelessly at the moment but that's still too much noise, and we can't take the change of you miraculously getting you voice back.”

Brown eyes were forced to watch as the blade returned to Kaegan's neck, pain and blood leaking from the wound as Petyr cut away at his vocal cords, severing them.  Words to describe the agony didn't exist and even if they had Kaegan couldn't say them. 

“Forgive me, I'm not an expert on this but a combination of the paralysis and cut vocal cords should keep you from making a noise of any kind. Certainly no words. You may be alive but you'll never live again. In in time, maybe a month, a year, _ten,_ you'll finally understand what it was like to be terrified under Joffrey's bed with no one to help you. I haven't ripped any of you away though have I? Let's take your tongue for good measure."  

Officer Kuznets stood outside the cell hoping his colleagues didn't wake up, Tannis was an older man who'd never gone far in the policing world; too much of a hot head. He also seemed to be void of any moral compass. There was no screaming, no yelling for help, just muffled words of a man who called himself a mockingbird but was really a devious fox. Tannis heard the cutting of fabric and flesh though he tried not to, it rang in his ears and for and for a moment he thought he'd gone too far, let Baelish go to far, but this sound was what would get him paid. Everyone knew Baelish was dangerous but still they underestimated him and the man in question seemed to like it that way. There was a spluttering noise and the officer knew the Cleaner was almost done. Tannis was nothing more than a desk officer and had only given Baelish information up until that moment, but this? He'd not only given the Cleaner all he needed to kill Kaegan Irelan but torture him as well. The older Officer stood there for what felt like an eternity but was only a span of twenty minutes at most listening to blood drip onto the floor.  _ How did Irelan make Baelish so angry?  _ His mind asked, Petyr was normally such a calm and collected man and though there was no screaming or violent stabbing Tannis could still feel the rage in the air. 

Tannis jumped when the door clicked and Petyr stepped out, he automatically backed away from the younger dark-haired man with latex gloves coated in ruby blood and holding a bullet that looked like it had been dug out of the wall. Baelish pulled them off and tossed them into the bag over his shoulder with the bullet wrapped up inside them. 

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.” Petyr warned. “I patched the bullet wound up, but it will only last a short while. He needs a hospital.”

“I thought you'd just shoot him! Why is he alive?” Tannis was confused. 

“Calm yourself Tannis. Irelan is alive because I want him to suffer for years ro come, he can't speak so don't worry. Now, I'm done here.”

Baelish took his gun out again and pointed it at Tannis, he'd always favoured the Colt Gold Cup Trophy with its skeleton trigger and inlaid engravings on the flats.

“Shoot me in the leg, it'll bleed a lot.”

“No.”

“ _No_?”

“No.  Tannis you'll be on the CCTV cameras turning them off, of course I'm taking the tape but still. The door you let me in only opens from the inside, a cop would have had to buzz me in. It's also going to be rather suspicious that your friends wake up with cracking headaches and you have a bullet to the leg. You're stupid too, you'll talk. Get a few drinks in you and you'll tell Detective Sparrow himself everything.” 

“So... so what are you going to do?” Tannis was almost in tears.

“I think you know. For what it's worth though, I am sorry but Sansa is more important.”

_BANG!_

Tannis fell to the floor dead. One shot to the head, it was quick and painless, Tannis had aided him and didn't deserve a drawn out death. It was  Petyr's only choice, after the older man's stupid and ill though out actions. Petyr could see why the Officer had never gone far, he couldn't keep a secret and he'd not covered his tracks. He should have asked Sebastian to help him but he was on a case in Braavos with Jefferson. Tannis didn't need to die, Petyr could have sent him far away, but when it came to keeping Sansa safe Petyr would kill his own sister if he had one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took Aidan's character from Black Out, Karl Madox, as inspiration for Petyr's murderous side since I can almost recite that movie. 
> 
> Also I'm just curious if anyone can guess the Aidan Gillen movie quote in this chapter. I'm not even going to tell you which movie it's from but I'll give you some clues. It's not from Black Out, it's set in England and Aidan spends a lot of time shirtless in this movie. :-)


	23. Sins Do Not See Beyond Themselves

Petyr sat in his car when he got back home for a very long time, cigarettes were beginning to pile up outside his car window and the only noise other than his music was wind dancing through the trees to a gentle waltz.

_You got the look, but not the credit  
They wrote the book, on how to sell it_

_From cigarettes, to skinny jeans  
You got the money, they got the means_

Petyr liked to sit in quiet peace sometimes, just him and his music. Kaegan's _attack_ would have been reported by now of that he had no doubt and the only thing that concerned him was Sansa's reaction. She'd coped, hell enjoyed, Joffrey's demise but what Petyr had done to Kaegan was rather different; his girl was sensitive. 

_All you upper class daughters, and working class sons_  
It's hard to save a dollar, the way the world runs  
You're the target market of a corporate joke  
It won't be so ironic when your daddy is broke

Surprise surprise, surprise surprise  
You're much better looking when you're in disguise  
Surprise surprise, surprise surprise  
And this revolution has been brought to you by.

Petyr couldn't hide in his DBS forever though,  it smelt of those menthols Teiichi smoked but that could be dealt with another day.  H e turned off his music and walked to the front door clicked it open before slowly walking into the living room. Sansa sat with Tristan in her lap and Lady by her feet staring at the news with  an unreadable emotion  while Tyrion stood behind the couch with his back to Petyr. Before he could clear his throat or even greet his girl she was speaking.

“Did... did you do that Master?”

“Do what?” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Cut him? Take his tongue?.” She had difficultly reading the words from the screen but got there in the end, Petyr was a little surprised the police had let the reporters know about Kaegan's tongue. 

“I think I'll take Tristan outside for an afternoon stroll.” Tyrion interjected quickly before picking up the boy and taking him out through the glass doors after flicking the television off; Lady followed. 

“Tyrion, you're up.” Said Petyr as the blonde stepped out the patio doors, Tyrion threw an  _I know_ over his shoulder.

Attention turned to the conversation at hand.

“Yes.” Petyr confessed. “Yes, I did all those things.” 

“Why?” She didn't look at him. “Why like that?”

“You killed Joffrey, needed to. Me? Do you know how much I wanted to rip his heart out with my bare hands for hurting you? Joffrey is dead, I couldn't kill him. All that rage turned to Irelan, he hurt you too. However, he forced me to shoot him and I decided it would be better if he suffered through the rest of his life knowing how you were forced to live yours. I really didn't want to upset you, baby girl. I'm sorry.”

Then something strange happened, something that the ever plotting mind of Petyr Baelish didn't see comeing, Sansa shot up from the couch and threw her arms around him, gripping him tight.

“What's this for?” He asked with a grin, arms slipping around her slender waist.

“... For caring.”

Petyr just clung to her and breathed his girl in, eyes flickering shut. She smelt of coconut and something that was uniquely Sansa Stark. 

“My baby girl. My Sweetling.” He muttered into her hair, she was about an inch shorter than him when she didn't have shoes on. 

“Yours, Master.”

Oh his ego liked that, more than it should have. Petyr should have been holding her softly and with care but instead his eyes had darkened with want. Petyr knew that it was wrong to want to  _own_ her but he couldn't bring himself to care, and he could own the girl without her being a slave couldn't he? This was  Sansa's choice, to give herself to someone she wanted to be with. 

“Say that again?” He almost pleaded.

“ _Yours_ , Master.” She repeated for his pleasure. Sansa knew those words should have scared her but they didn't, instead and sorrow she felt loved and cared for.  

She heard him mumbled _my girl_ before pressing his lips to hers and guiding her through the room and over to the couch, lowering her down softly. Sansa had never had anyone care and protect her like he did and Petyr had never _felt_ as much as he did for Sansa. That picture in his head of himself as CEO of Lion and Stag had changed, now she was by his side and Petyr would do anything to make that picture a reality. 

Sansa smiled and bit her lip, he doubted she knew just how seductive that looked. Petyr smiled into the kiss, ghosting his hands over her breasts. She moaned at the teasing contact, banished were the horrors of her past. Teeth set about nipping at her neck, softly marking her as his own. It made her feel wanted and loved, not a plaything that had been handed around . His hands found the top of her lilac panties underneath her skirt, Petyr pulled them down and off slowly before casting them to the ground. Baelish savour ed the feeling of their dampness . Attention turned back to the her peach blouse and the way her breasts peaked out the top of the few open buttons; small and round like a tear. Pet yr wasted no time kissing her small mounds through the fabric tugging moan after bliss filled moan from her lips. Little murmurs of bliss escaped her lips and though they were breathed into his ear she still seemed far, far away.  Fingers nimbly opened the small pearl like buttons and cast it to the floor with her panties, soon her black bra followed. Kisses where quickly pressed to the exposed silky skin and Sansa dug her nails into his shoulders as she pulled him closer to her; she wouldn't live in fear any longer, she wanted her Master and that was just what she was going to get. Her Master  took a nipple into his mouth sucking lightly on the bud calling it back to full attention, his other hand coming up to giver her other breast the same treatment. Everything in that moment was perfect, she wasn't afraid of him or what he'd done and that made Petyr want to fuck her even more. 

“I want you, Sweetling. Do you want me?” 

As if to answer Sansa pushed her hips up to meet his hard length still confined in his suit pants and one of them gasped, they didn't know who and to be honest neither much cared. Sansa's hands slipped from his shoulders and found their way to his belt, pulling it open and slipping her hand inside. There was a sharp intake of breath and then Petyr went back to teasing her breast, his girl smiled as she stated to stroke his length. Baelish didn't think it was possible but he grew harder. As he reclaimed her mouth Sansa helped him shimmy from his pants and boxers giving her better access to the hardened member. She pumped him slowly as his kisses dropped down her body and eventually he pulled back and with one final kiss pulled his shirt off and then tugged her black flounce skirt away leaving them both naked as the day they were born. Petyr gazed at his girl. 

“Beautiful.”

She knew he meant it. Petyr pushed her thighs apart and kissed them in turn, moving ever closer to the place she wanted him more than anything to kiss. When he did she gasped and plunged her hands into his greying hair, keeping him in place, it was no secret that her Master liked Sansa to grip his hair when he used his mouth on her. His tongue lapped at her folds, he was amazed at how wet she was for him, her hands tightened a little as his tongue circled her clit.

“Oh Master!” She all but screamed.

He kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over making her scream louder and louder for him, then he slipped a finger inside her. Her grip on his hair became vice like but it only spurred him on as she moaned. Another finger slipped in and he crocked them as he kissed her clit. It didn't take long for Sansa to start pushing back on his fingers, she was close and he knew that and so he slipped in a third finger. After a few moments of careful thrusting she screamed out his name wrapping her legs around his head. Petyr made sure to keep the movement going throughout her orgasm until she was left panting, her eyes closed. Sex had once held nothing but fear, now it was pure pleasure.

Petyr's fingers slipped from her and she mourned the loss as he clambered back up to kiss her, she could taste herself on him. When the kiss broke Petyr smiled a true smile at the sight of Sansa's lips glistening with her own juices, his hard member pulsing and twitching at the way her tongue licked her bottom lip. If he got his way she would look like that all the time.

“Please, I need you.”

Sansa's hips rose to meet his again and it was then that he realized he was on top of her, all the times they had sex she had been on top to keep away the horrors of her life and so Petyr made to sit them up so she could straddle his lap but his girl pulled him back. Petyr was confused.

“Sweetling?” She cut him off.

“I'm not afraid any more Master. I know you won't hurt me.”

“Are you sure?”

The last thing he wanted was to force her memories back to what Joffrey and God only knew how many other men had done. Her answer was however, clear when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Petyr and his ego needed no other encouragement but he did feel the need to reassure her.

“If you need me to stop just say so.”

Sansa responded by using her feet to pull him even closer, Petyr just smiled. With one sharp but far from painful thrust he filled her to the hilt, he stilled for a moment letting her adjust to his size. This was a big step for his girl and Baelish wanted it to last. 

“Move.” She begged and demanded all at once. She was so brave and perfect.

Petyr quickly obliged pulling almost all the way out only to slam back in. Sansa dragged him down for a kiss but moaned into it when his hand returned to her wet sex. It didn't take long to have his girl moaning and meeting his thrusts. A perfect rhythm; delicate but overflowing with heated passion. The redhead's tongue made its way into Petyr's mouth experimentally as they became one, mapping his mouth, taking her tongue across his teeth causing his thrusts to become erratic for a second or two. Sansa was dangling on the very edge with her Master not far behind her, she wiggled her hips in just the right way, teasingly, and send him into some kind of rut, thrusting like his life depended on it. It was then that Sansa grew brave and dared to do something she'd never expected of herself, she chose to flip them - which was a little hard on the couch - not because she was scared but because she had grown to like being on top. Petyr's fingers gripped her hips leaving tiny little bruises that she actually cherished over her skin, pushing herself down onto him, impaling herself. Sansa leaned down to kiss him again, gasping at the new angle and the way her kissed nipples grazed against his chest.

Sansa could take it no longer and came... hard. Seconds later Petyr moaned out her name and tumbled over the edge too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics used are Surprise Surprise by Billy Talent.


	24. Life Is A Brief Intermission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Non-Con (nothing to do with Sansa though)

Ten-thirty in the morning signalled the start of Joffrey's funeral, Cersei stood in the centre of the crowd crying and dressed all in black, Tywin on her left looking as though he'd rather be at the office and Jaime on her right gripping her hand tightly. Tommen stood beside his Uncle Jaime with Myrcella, and Petyr wasn't entirely sure if the younger Baratheon boy was sad at his brother's passing or relieved; maybe it was both. Petyr had taken up residence on the opposite side of the casket with the rest of the executives, many of who wore expression much like Tywin's own. There was one Lannister missing though, Tyrion, but Petyr knew he wasn't far away, Tyrion wasn't there to pay his respects to Joffrey but rather to see Tommen and Myrcella. He loved those children, they were sweet and pure unlike the rest of his family.

Petyr internally smiled through the whole service but the exterior remained rather sympathetic while the High Septon prattled on about The Seven and a load of other nonsense Petyr didn't much care for. No one said a word or even coughed, though he doubted anyone beside Cersei and Jaime actually wanted to attend the funeral. By now Detective Sparrow had determined the lioness was involved with his prime suspect's sudden spell of paralysis but there was no evidence, Petyr had made certain of that. Unfortunately protecting himself meant protecting Cersei Lannister.

Just when Baelish thought he was going to die of boredom the body was lowered and the High Septon finally shut up. Everyone proceeded to offer Cersei and her remaining children their condolences before making a quick exit, Varys was behind him and Pycelle in front; the old man muttered on for a good ten minutes before Tywin finally couldn't take it any more and got rid of the old man. Petyr's turn.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Cersei.” He said with fake compassion.

“Thank you.” She responded as they went through the standard _kiss the grieving mother's cheek and pretend you give a damn_ routine. “I wanted who did this dead, Baelish. But now I think I like what you did more.”

“I'm glad you approve.” He flashed her a half smile.

“It was stupid and reckless.” Tywin butted into the conversation with a disapproving tone. “Then again thinking things through has never been your strong point, Cersei.” He turned to Petyr. “I must say though, Baelish. You know how to cover her ass.”

_I don't want anything to do with her ass unless I'm kicking it._ His mind  muttered.

“That's why you hired me. I'll leave you to your grieving.” 

“What about Vaith?” The older man asked, stopping the shorter man with hair like ash and smoke in his tracks.

“We took over yesterday afternoon, it hit newspapers this morning. Everything went smoothly, I sent a copy of the report to your assistant, it should be on your desk waiting for your return.”

“Can we not talk about the company at my son's funeral?” Cersei growled.

“Of course, again you have my condolences.”

Petyr inconspicuously picked up Tyrion and left.

 

XXXX

 

Ramsay had only gone to the funeral of Joffrey Baratheon to make sure he was actually dead. He wouldn't have put it passed Joffrey to jump out of his coffin yelling _surprise,_ Joffrey had a stupid sense of humour like that. However, he really was dead and there was only Baelish to deal with. Baelish wanted Lion and Stag for himself, that was clear enough but taking _his_ slave was going too far. Ramsay had pushed away his grimace and offered his sympathies to Cersei like everybody else. Bolton watched Jaime hover around his sister as she held in tears for her son, they looked like the perfect sorrow filled couple, if the rumours were to be believed then they were.

Everyone at that funeral doubted Jaime would stay in King's Landing long, he'd be off to act as CEO to Vaith Incorporated as soon as Tywin could book him a ticket to Dorne. Jaime Lannister didn't concern him though, a lack of Kaegan Irelan did, Joffrey had only had three people that could have been considered _friends,_ and that was at a great push. Ramsay himself, Duvall Hitachiin who was long dead, and Kaegan. Ramsay knew Kaegan had been an utter moron but he wouldn't have killed Joffrey, it served him no purpose, in fact it would have made his life harder. Ramsay would figure out who killed the both of them soon enough, he liked a good puzzle and already had suspicions.

After the funeral Ramsay drove home and as soon as he was in the house the dark-haired man tore off his tie and shirt, letting them drop to the freshly cleaned floor in a messy pile.

“Reek!” He called. “Reek get out here!”

An auburn haired man appeared from the kitchen his cheeks had scuffs of dirt on them and his clothes were more like old rags than real clothing, there were bruises peeking out from his sleeves and neckline; some days old others weeks. Reek's eyes were downcast in submission to his Master as usual, daring not to look up as Ramsay crashed down onto the black leather couch, resting his arms along the back of it.

“Yes, Master?” He asked cautiously with a shaky voice.

Ramsay's mood could change as easily as a switch could be flipped. No one liked Ramsay Bolton when he turned the lights off, plunging his victims into the darkness and leaving them to his mercy.

“I'm bored, come entertain me.” The _or else_ in his tone was clear.

“I'm making your lunch, Master. I-”

“Do I look like I give a shit to you, Reek?” The dark-haired mad man clicked his belt open. “You know what happens when you disobey me. I already took your cock off, don't make me take your nose too. I don't want to ruin such a pretty face.” Reek was flashed a grin. “Now, why don't you put that mouth to some good use?”

Ramsay parted his legs to make room for his slave. He wasn’t really into men, that was why he wanted Joffrey's whore, but he got off on the tortured look in Reek's eyes as he took Ramsay into his mouth. He liked to remind the former Greyjoy that he would never again feel lips close around his cock. Ramsay grinned ear to ear as he watched Reek drop to his knees before his Master and remove him from the confines of his pants, such a wonderful air of self-loathing and disgust.

“Come on, Reek. Show me what that mouth of yours can do.” The Master encouraged his pet with a sickening tone.

After a deep breath Reek took Ramsay into his mouth as he had several times before. He sucked hard, Ramsay liked it that way, and cradled his Master with one hand. A small tear escaped from his pale green eyes and ran down his cheek, the former Greyjoy's jaw ached but he couldn't stop, if he stopped before Ramsay came there would be hell to pay and he wasn't willing to risk that.

“Good boy, Reek.” Ramsay moaned as he thrust deep into Theon's mouth. “How would you like a friend? Hmm? A pretty young slut to help you with your chores? You could take it in turns to have my cock in your mouth.” Ramsay giggled sickly. “Or would sharing me like that make you jealous?” Ramsay's breaths were coming in pants, he was close. “Whore like you... bet you'd be... jealous.”

The mad man gripped his curly auburn-red hair and thrust so deep that Reek nearly choked, Reek just knelt there perfectly sill waiting until Ramsay was done rutting into his mouth, tears ran freely down his red cheeks and it was hard for his lungs to get any air. Suddenly and without warning Ramsay came and Reek did his best to swallow the sticky seed down, he only got beaten if he didn't.

“How about I make her bloody when she gets here and you clean her up?” He asked while panting from his height, the hand he had fisted in Reek's hair loosened and let the former Greyjoy fall back a bit. “Team work. If you're a good boy I'll let you lick the taste of her cunt from my cock.”

The former heir to _The Iron Isle Shipping company_ pulled needed oxygen into his lungs as Ramsay stuffed his softened length back into his pants and closed his belt, the whole time he kept his eyes on his pet.

“Did you swallow all of that?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You ate without me, I should punish you for that. I'm hungry though, bring me something to eat.” Ramsay ordered dismissively.

Reek pushed himself up on shaky legs and wiping tears from his eyes before they offended his Master. He hadn't gotten four steps when Ramsay stopped him.

“Oh and Reek, do it naked. I like the way every bit of you that's not bruised turns red.”

“Yes, Master.”

 

XXXX

 

Jaime sat beside his sister on her bed as she cried into her arms over the loss of their son, Jaime was the only one she'd let see her weak. Her face was red and her head ached from having shed so many tears, her body shook and the only warmth left in her body was what came from her brother, Jaime wept too but much more softly, Cersei made a show of everything she did while Jaime was much more subtle; he had a kinder heart too. The bed was made up of rich gold sheets blotted with tears while the walls were a deep red that made the room warm, their family colors and the ones of Lion and Stag; though none of that seemed important as Jaime held his sister.

“You can't go.” She sobbed into his chest muffling her words. “You only just came back!”

“I know. I know.” He tried to comfort Cersei by rubbing small circles on her back but it seemed to have no effect. “You know what our father is like though, he always gets his way.” Jaime said solemnly.

“Joffrey is dead. We only buried our son this morning. “What about Tommen and Myrcella?”

“Sister, he was my son too. I want to stay, I practically begged father to let me stay a few weeks but he's not having it. Myrcella is stronger and wiser thank you think and Tommen? Tommen just wants his family to stop yelling at one another.”

Cersei seemed to ignore everything Jaime had just said, sometimes the blonde man wondered why he bothered, and Jaime certainly wasn't going to tell his easily angered sister that he actually missed Brienne. She worked for an interdependent security firm that had headquarters in Tarth, they'd met a few times over the years but only recently had they become friends when Tywin hired her company to aid Jaime at Vaith Incorporated in Dorne. Jaime felt something for Brienne but he wasn't sure what it was exactly.

“I don't want you to go.” Cersei's words pulled her brother back from his thoughts of Brienne. “Stay.”

“I can't.” He said simply, no one disobeyed Tywin Lannister not even his own son. “Baelish knows what he's doing, it will all be done with soon enough and then you can have me back.”

“Littlefinger is the only hope I have of you coming back to be some time before winter?” She was angry again and Jaime realised all his words of comfort had backfired. “He's a dubious little rat who wants nothing more that to destroy everything our father built!”

“But you can't deny that Baelish is good at his job, all of them. It seems snapping necks and cashing cheques is what that man does.” Jaime laughed.

“Shut up! Stop making jokes, and I don't want to talk about Littlefinger.” She sighed and tried to calm herself. “Just hold me, Jaime.”

Jaime did just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's Reek/Theon for everyone whose be waiting for me to finish tagging this story.


	25. Twilight Tears

 

The sun was going down in a mix of oranges, yellows and deep reds when Petyr pulled into his driveway, it looked like the day had given up and gone to bed much like Petyr wanted to, he'd spent the morning at The Mockingbird going over orders and basically keeping everything in working order while Tyrion played with Ros upstairs. However, when lunch had rolled around Littlefinger had taken the blonde back to his house and left him there to be growled at by Lady. Sansa had offered to make him lunch and Petyr had been desperate to take his girl up on the offer but alas Lion and Stag called so with a sorrow filled expression and a gentle kiss to her perfect lips he'd declined her inviting offer. Tywin had packed Jaime back off to Dorne and taken the CEO throne away from Petyr, much to his dismay, the Lannister patriarch thought this was a joke but all it had done was make Baelish more determined to have it. He hadn’t seen Cersei in a few days and Detective Sparrow seemed to be getting nowhere on who had attacked his suspect, in the end the courts didn't seem to care and would be trying a voiceless and paralysed Kaegan Irelan in the next few weeks, with so much evidence they had a case even if Kaegan didn't have a voice. Petyr couldn't help but notice that the entire Irelan family were staying well away from the case; no one blamed them for that. 

With night quickly taking over the sky Petyr slipped inside his home and came to an instant halt before he'd even shut the door behind him. He could hear Sansa's muffled cries from upstairs in her room and found Tyrion stood at the bottom of the stairs popping a painkiller with one hand while the other held his head. 

“Oh thank the Gods your back!” Tyrion sounded drained as he walked towards the dark-haired man. “It's about fucking time.” Petyr opened his mouth to speak but shut it again when Tyrion got there first. “Sansa has been crying for an hour and Lady won't let me anywhere near her bedroom to find out what upset her. I have a headache the size of Dorne and you're out of wine.” 

“If you stopped drinking so much I'd still have wine and you wouldn't have a headache.” Petyr deadpanned. 

“I haven't been sober since I was seventeen, this headache is a result of her sobbing for the last hour. Just make her stop.” Tyrion pleaded. “Tears from teenage girls are not my department.”

Petyr sighed, he wanted Tyrion gone from his home so it was just him and Sansa again but Tyrion couldn't strike too soon after Joffrey's death, that was how he'd ended up spent two months hiding out in Petyr's home. It was a waiting game. He trudged up the spiralling staircase until he had to look over the railing to make sure the Lannister had wandered off, the man with moss colored eyes made his way to the very end of the hall where Sansa's bedroom was, it shared a wall with his own room and had a small balcony for her to sit and stare out at the ocean from. Lady was right where Tyrion said she'd be guarding the door like some kind of solider, she growled when he came into view. Though Sansa was her best friend and the one she was there to protect Lady knew he was the Master and quickly quieted when he snapped his fingers in a gesture to sit at his feet. 

“Lady, sit!” The large Wolfdog obeyed him and let Petyr push the bedroom door open. 

All the lights were off and so he walked over to the night stand and flicked her bedside lamp on, it illuminated the room with an artificial glow and revealed Sansa face down with her head buried in the pillows crying. 

“Sweetling, what's wrong?” Petyr asked as he sat down on the edge of her bed. There was no response beyond more tears. “Baby girl, please tell me-”

Suddenly Sansa shot up onto her knees and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, it caught him off guard for a second but once his mind had caught up he pulled the girl into his lap and held her. 

“Make him stop saying that.” She begged and hiccupped against his neck.

“What has Tyrion said?” 

If that bloody blonde had made his girl cry Tyrion would find his ass being handed to him. 

“Not him.” She cried. “Tristan!”

“He started speaking?”

The boy was eleven months old, to be honest Petyr was surprised he hadn't started to talk a while ago. Petyr turned his head to the dark couch that was pressed up against the wall beside the balcony doors, Sansa had built what could only be described as a pillow fort for Tristan to lie in, she only set him there when she was doing something; he slept with her in the bed. 

Petyr gently shuffled Sansa to sit on her bed and took her arms from around his neck. He went to the boy who was playing with a toy sheep that had been in the baby bag they took from his mother, Tristan seemed happy enough as Petyr picked him up and went back to the bed. 

“What did Tristan say?”

She didn't answer, just wiped tears from her cheeks, whatever it was Sansa didn't want to say it so he pushed the baby towards her hoping the child would tell him instead.

“Mama!” The boy beamed and reached for the redhead. Sansa suddenly burst into tears again. 

“Oh...” Petyr didn't know what to say to that. 

“Please make him stop, Master.” Her face was red and wet. “Please.” 

As much as he enjoyed hearing the words _please Master_ come out of her mouth, the situation had grown awkward. Petyr hadn't wanted her to grow too attached to the child and yet it seemed Tristan had been the one to grow attached, he'd chosen Sansa as his _Mama._ He didn't blame the boy, who would want to stay with Sansa? This had to stop though, before it grew any worse. 

“That's it. He's going to a hospital. The reason we can't find the Grandmother is most likely because she's dead. He's going. Tristan is only upsetting you.”

Petyr had made a decision, put his foot down. Sansa continued to sob but it was slower than before. 

“I don't want him to go, Master. Don't want him to be alone.” She muttered. “But you don't want him here.” 

The last bit was said to herself, so quietly that Petyr had to strain to hear it, but hear it he did. Baelish sighed and slipped the eleven month old into his girl's arms so he could stand up from the twilight coated bed. 

“Come on and dry your eyes, Sweetling. We'll take him to the hospital and he'll get a new family, Tristan will be happy. That's what you want right?” 

“Yes.” The word was so small.

“Good.”

With a little encouragement Petyr managed to get Sansa into the car with Tristan, she held him close and petted his dark hair, while he occupied Lady with the task of watching Tyrion; the blonde didn't look too pleased but he went wordlessly back to his book. 

Sansa didn't speak a word on their drive, only sniffled with the remains of her tears that refused to leave her, Petyr didn't try to force her into conversation because he knew it would do no good and he had no idea what to say to her; it wasn't often that he was lost for words but this had certainly done it. On the one hand he was happy to remove the child from his home but on the other hand he was going to break Sansa's heart. Rain tumbled from the heavens as Baelish drove along the many streets of King's Landing towards the hospital, sheets of water crashed against the windscreen violently and so fast that Petyr could hardly see despite the wipers being on full speed; he hadn't even noticed it raining until they'd stepped out the front foor. Tristan's little fingers clung to Sansa's yellow blouse as he dozed and though he would never admit it, the Cleaner thought it looked adorable. 

When the grey Aston Martin finally came to a halt Sansa and her Master just sat there for a few minutes listening to the rain and Tristan's soft breaths against her chest, but it was over all too soon. 

“Alright, Sweetling.” He said turning to face her, voice muffled slightly by thick rain. “Say goodbye to him.” Petyr tried to keep his voice soft and understanding for her sake. 

The redhead pulled the boy closer and held him tight, tears started to drip along her cheeks once more in silent protest and kissed his soft black locks. Sansa didn't want to let Tristan go but her Master had made a decision and she wouldn't interfere with his plans, it was better this way, Tristan would have a real family. She pressed a kiss to his head once more. 

“Goodbye Tristan.” She gave him one last squeeze and then handed him over to Petyr. 

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked.

“No.”

He didn't think she'd want to but Petyr had decided to ask anyway. If Tristan had been another dog or a toy he'd have let her keep him in a heartbeat but Tristan was a child, he needed a family not a manipulative brothel owner who kept an eighteen year old in his house that called him  _Master_ with every other sentence. The boy was young, he'd forget all about Sansa and Petyr in time. 

Petyr stepped outside the car and into the pouring rain, he wrapped his coat around the boy to keep him dry and pulled his hood up over head to hide his face as he walked through the gargantuan parking lot towards the ER, he was three cars away before the sound of rain muffled Sansa's crying enough that he couldn't hear it. Tristan didn't make a sound as Baelish carried him, in fact he seemed to actually like it, Petyr's chest was warmer than Sansa's had been and he wasn't crying so the boy could rest easily against his strong chest. The night was inky and dark but the neon lights of the ER revealed just how busy the place was, the Cleaner guessed it was due to the car pile up that had happened about an hour previous; the entire street had been shut off and Petyr had to go all the way round to get home. Nurses rushed around going this way and that while patients sat in the waiting area and more seriously injured people rested on gurneys waiting for real beds. Orderlies moved quickly trying to get control of the chaos and make things easier on the doctors and nurses but ot had little effect. 

Tristan's nails dug into Petyr's chest in fear, it was all too noisy and bright, but much to Baelish's pleasure he didn't cry or start screaming for Sansa. The boy was afraid but he would only be like that for a short time, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for a nurse or orderly to spot him; even in this chaos. Petyr calmly walked to the nurses station to find it vacant, a nurses station never stayed empty for long. He set the boy down on the desk away form the edge so he didn't fall and hurt himself in the brief time he was unattended, it took a moment but Petyr managed to prise his shirt from Tristan's grip,  _I think I need a fucking crowbar!_

“Bye Tristan.”

He said softly and ruffled the boy's dark baby soft locks and then started to walk away. The boy was no more, Petyr was free and only had Tyrion left to deal with before he had his house to himself again, just him and Sansa. Peace and quiet would be restored. 

“Dada!”


	26. Don't Think Of What There Is To Lose, Think Of What There Is To Gain

Sansa continued to cry in the car and from the way the rain came down heavier from the heavens she wondered if  the Gods wer e sobbing with her.  Fire hung around her face like a shroud, bits of which were damp and stuck to her cheeks, Sansa's blue eyes were puffy and raw from having her palms pressed to them; her head had started to ache.  She knew it was best for Tristan and that her Master made the rules, he didn't like children and had already been good enough to let Lady and Sansa stay with him; Tyrion too.  On top of everything Sansa wouldn't have made a good mother, her own had been murdered at the age of eight and Joffrey had always told her she was useless at everything so why would raising a child be any different? Just because she would make a horrible mother didn't mean she was in any less pain, there was an emotion inside her that she only felt for Tristan; it was so similar to what she felt for Master but at the same time entirely different. Sansa had no name for it, but it swelled in her heart each time she looked at him and tore it apart when he was gone.  She tried to force away the sting in her heart, the redhead could hear Joffrey telling her not to be so greedy, she still had her Master who was a more noble man than he liked to make out and her best friend Lady. 

Suddenly her car door opened with a force that nearly pulled her out the Aston onto the cold wet tarmac and her Master shoved Tristan into her arms.

“Here, keep him.” He said quickly before slamming the door shut again.

Sansa clung to the eleven month old like he was a lifeline or would somehow fade away to nothingness. She didn't dare say anything as Petyr started the engine and drove through the night back home and nor did he, his seafoam eyes stared straight ahead but his brow was set in a way that suggested he'd realised something; Sansa wanted to ask what that was but couldn't break the silence in case he was angry. Tristan gripped her yellow blouse again as though it was his rightful place and just settled back off to sleep like nothing had ever happened, Master had been so set on getting rid of the boy so why had he brought Tristan back? Petyr drove faster than was probably safe in such a rainstorm but his mind was racing, Sansa opened her mouth to ask him to slow down but quickly shut it again; couldn't bring herself to say a single word to him. She wanted to know what had changed his mind, was it possible that he felt for the boy the way Sansa did? The redhead doubted it but anything was possible with Petyr Baelish. 

Finally the car pulled up outside his large home and the engines purr was silenced, as soon as Sansa stepped foot in the building she muttered something about taking Tristan to bed and headed up the stairs out of sight.  Time seemed to slow for a while and the whole house remained silent, Lady didn't bark, Tyrion didn't laugh at whatever joke he'd just come up with, nothing. She lay on her side in the darkened room holding a sleeping Tristan while listening to the rain, her Master found it comforting but it still scared her a little, Sansa was growing to understand why he liked it though, there was something almost musical about it.  Something soothing. 

Just as her mind fell silent and Sansa started to drift off into the world of sleep  the bedroom door clicked open bidding her Master entrance. Azure eyes remained closed as she listened to him take off his shirt, pants and shoes then the bed dipped as he climbed in beside her, an arm slid around Sansa's waist. There was silence for a long time, Petyr didn't seem to want to talk and Sansa was still searching for the courage to broach the subject. His warmth gave her that courage though, his care did. 

“Master, why did you bring him back?” Her voice was small and timid.

He pulled her by her waist pressing his chest to her back and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot just behind her ear before he even thought of answering her question.

“If Hoster Tully hadn't have taken me in when I was a child I'd have had nothing. Never would have had the chance to become who I am now  and I rather like who I am.” Sansa wasn't sure where he was going with this but she let him speak _._ “Tristan has decided that you're his mother and apparently am his father.”  He laughed darkly against her neck. “I rather like the idea of having a mini Baelish to mould in my image, I hadn't thought of that until tonight. Once I have taken everything I don't just want to die and let them have it all back, if I let you keep him and give him my name then it will always belong to us and not them.” 

Sansa suspected there was more to that story but she wasn't going to ask, after so long of just wanting the boy gone there had to be, they were keeping Tristan and that was all she wanted so Sansa wouldn't question further. She just let herself fall off to sleep with Tristan in her arms and Petyr holding onto her. 

Baelish didn't find sleep as quickly though, he lay awake for hours listening to the rain and thinking about what keeping the boy mean and the other reason's Petyr had decided Tristan could not only stay but would be their son. Petyr had been won over so quickly by Sansa because she was like him, and by Lady because she made Sansa happy but Tristan had made him realise that he was lonely. He'd never noticed he was lonely before not until that second with his back to the boy who called him  _Dada_ , he'd always thought families were overrated, caused interference but now that he has Sansa and Tristan he saw that if they weren't there he'd be back to practically sleeping in his offices because there was no reason to go home. Originally he'd liked it that way but now he wasn't so sure. Sansa had brought him closer to taking Lion and Stag Enterprises in less than a year than his own carefully crafted plan and Tristan could carry on his name almost like a legacy. He'd focused so much on getting the power that he'd not thought of what would happen once he got it. Maybe family wasn't just a weakness but a strength like Catelyn had always told him. He didn't like children but Tristan wouldn't be a child forever and he was certain he could learn to like the boy as he had with Lady. 

First things first though, if they were to keep the boy as a method of keeping the power he took - yes Petyr was going to keep telling himself that - hen Petyr was going to have to change his birth records, it would be easy enough to do that thanks to his little helper in the office of births, marriages and deaths. No more Thorin Marx, son of Korbin Marx and Leontine Yvaine, he'd be Tristan Baelish. Yes, for his plan and legacy Petyr Baelish was willing to become a father. 

The things he did for power...

 

XXXX

 

Two days had passed since Petyr had decided Sansa could keep Tristan and it had to be said, his girl seemed happier. Summer had turned to fall letting leaves tumbled to the floor and turn a burnt yellow that seemed even more tranquil than the bold colors of summer, fall suited Sansa, it matched her hair but he couldn't wait to see what winter brought; the snow against fiery red hair would be exquisite. 

The Cleaner sat in his home office staring at his laptop, his charcoal suit jacket hung off the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up revealing his tattooed arm and the void that waited to be filled; his plum purple shirt was open at the collar contrasting with his hair of smoke and ash. He'd been sat in silence for a time just thinking about what giving Tristan his name meant, he would have a legacy to keep the name Baelish going but he'd also have a responsibility to his  _son._ Petyr was pulled back from his internal monologue by a tiny knock on is large office door before it swung open revealing his girl in a black skirt with a black and white striped Henley top, her feet were bare as usual and her copper hair framed her face beautifully. Petyr was thankful that her scars had started to fade, they would never be gone but thanks to a healthy diet and sunlight they were much less noticeable; which gave Sansa a boost of confidence. 

“Master, shouldn't you be at Lion and Stag?” She asked.

Normally he'd tell her if he was staying at home but Petyr had been so lost in thoughts of plotting that he'd forgotten. 

“No.” He answered. “I took the day off, said something came up. It there's an emergency Gwendolyn will call for me, I'll ride in just when everyone thinks the battle is lost and save the day.”

Sansa laughed at that, he could always make her smile. She liked the days he stayed home because it meant she got to be with her Master,  _is that being greedy?_ Sansa didn't much care, her Master was her everything; he took her from the dark and gave her light. 

“Would you like me to make you a late breakfast?” His girl asked as she stepped further into the room.

“Thank you, baby girl, but I'm not hungry.” Petyr's attention went back to his laptop as he started to type. 

Sansa was a little upset at that, she liked to show him what she'd learnt, once she'd taught herself how to make pancakes and Petyr had acted as though she'd discovered the cure for cancer; the redhead knew he only did it to make her happy. She could see he was busy though and with how hard he worked Sansa didn't want to interrupt, she made for the door but his voice halted her in her bare-footed tracks. 

“Sweetling, wait. Come here.”

Petyr pushed his large chair out from the desk a bit so she had space to take her usual place on his knee, he smelt of mint and was warm to the touch, Sansa had come to find that comforting. Automatically the girl cuddled into his chest, the arm coated in tattoos snaked around her waist keeping her from slipping off and pulled her close. He could smell the coconut from her shampoo and had to hold back a moan.  _Gods she's perfect._

“What's that, Master?”  Sansa asked in a curious tone while gesturing towards the laptop screen. 

“If we're going to keep Tristan he needs to have a birth record that says he's ours. This is the original one for Thorin Marx, all we need to do is change his name and parent information. Would you like to help?”

Sansa nodded and straightened herself up in his lap ever so slightly so she could see the screen better, Petyr was pleased with her enthusiasm; she'd gone from a broken and bruised slave to his brave and beautiful girl. He pressed a kiss to her temple. The redhead looked at the birth certificate waiting to be edited, it was an off-white with a simple black border, at the top was a large symbol that looked like some sort of sun surrounded by metal bands or maybe an atom without the electrons circulating it. Under the symbol in an almost scripture like font were the words  _Birth Certificate_ and under that were several lines of text that Petyr had already deleted.

“Okay, first we need to replace Korbin Marx with yours truly.” Sansa watched as he typed one-handed, filling in his full name and place of birth, Sansa smiled a little remembering that day on the beach when he taught her to swim and told her about his home, a little bit about his home anyway.  _That was a good day,_ she thought. “And the mother needs to be you.” He looked at his girl with a smile, one day he'd see those blue eyes again. “Do you want to show off your spelling talent for me and type your name and where you were born? Your Alayne Stone name though.” The world couldn't know Sansa Stark was alive. 

It was silly but Petyr took every opportunity he could to encourage Sansa with her writing. Slowly Sansa leaned in and typed her other name on the line he'd indicated, he was humouring her but it made Sansa feel intelligent and valued. 

“Good girl.” He praised with another soft kiss to her temple, Sansa soaked up the care in his voice. “Now, his name needs to be Baelish not Marx.” Petyr typed as he spoke. “And you named him Tristan. Do you want to give him a middle name?” 

“A middle name?”

“Yeah, this says he doesn't have one but we can add one in if you'd like, your choice.”

“I don't know, Master. I don't have one.”

“Yes you do.” He said slowly. “It's _Minisa. _ Your mother named you after her own mother.”

Sansa grinned at that little bit on knowledge, each day she discovered something new about herself. The faces of her parents and siblings were even starting to return since Petyr had given the photo album back, just another step towards the full return of Sansa Stark, or Sansa Minisa Stark it seemed. In this case though it would have to be Alayne Minisa Stone. 

“What's yours, Master?”

There was a pause.

“... It's Amyas.”

“I like that.” Sansa meant it, the name sounded nice on her tongue and it suited Petyr. An idea came to her mind. “What does it mean? I remember names mean things-” She trailed off. 

“It means _loved._ ” He responded softly and Sansa thought the name fitting for him. “And before you ask Petyr means _stone,_ I think my parents had some sick sense of humour considering the stony shithole the fingers are.” 

“Could... could he have that? Amyas?”

“I suppose.” Came her Master's response. “Parents do that sort of thing.” Seconds later Sansa's azure orbs were watching Petyr typing the middle name and adding her own. “I thought you'd choose Eddard after your father.” 

“Could he have that too? Or can you only have one?”

Sansa hadn't even thought of that but it seemed she didn't have to, before she'd even finished speaking the name was added in next to Amyas. She still couldn't believe her Master was really letting her keep Tristan, it was like a miracle. 

“My contact at the office of births, marriages and deaths will print it out, forge the signature and shelf it back where it was. No one will ever know it was changed since there really was a baby boy born at the exact time and date the certificate says.” Petyr pulled Sansa a little closer to his chest taking in another deep breath of her coconut shampoo. “Now, where's our  _son?”_

Petyr asked more to tease his girl than because he actually wanted to know. 

“He's playing in the living room with Lady, his toys and Copper.” Sansa answered with a faint smile. “Tyrion is reading in there too.” 

“Good.” Petyr grinned smugly. “He can make himself useful and play nanny for a while. I want to spend some time with by baby girl.” 

Less than half a second later he picked Sansa up and set her down on his desk with her legs open to him. If any other man touched her like that she'd scream and beg for them to stop but Petyr was different, he gave her pleasure and something else she couldn't name. She only begged for more when with him. 

“Would you like that, Sweetling?” Petyr's voice was deep and full of lust as he slowly pulled her pink panties down her pale thighs. 

“Yes.” The word came out breathlessl. 

“Yes what?” He teased. “You know I love hearing it.”

“Yes, _Master_.”

Sansa heard her panties fall to the floor and felt large warm hands push the black skirt up her legs revealing her most private parts to him. His lips pressed kisses up her thighs as he leaned forwards in his black leather chair, paying special attention to the little scars that littered her body, Sansa thought they were ugly and repulsive but Petyr kept telling her they were marks of strength; she had gone through so much and yet there she was rebuilding herself at his side. 

Petyr could smell her wetness and growled at the knowledge that it was all for him, he was the only one she took pleasure from; his tongue travelled up to her folds. Sansa gasped. Fingers of one hand dove into his combed hair messing it up while the other hand went back to support her weight, she knew he liked her to grip onto him rather than anything else and suspected it was so all her attention was entirely on him. 

“You taste so good, Sweetling.” He mumbled from between her legs with a hum that vibrated through her dripping core. 

A needy whimper escaped her lips as two fingers slipped into her wet heat, at first the movements were slow and teasing and then suddenly his tongue licked at her in need forcing mews from her parted lips that caused her eyes to flutter shut. The arms supporting her ached and was ready to collapse but she didn't much care, if she collapsed he'd only pull her sex back to his hungry mouth. Her body panted and hips thrust up forcefully and without her content, he pushed a hand down on her hip to keep his girl in place.

“Master?” She was begging again, so close, only needing a small push to get her over the edge. “Please.”

How could he resist that? The girl needed her release and Petyr was the only man in all of Westeros who could give it to her. One last press of his talented tongue to her glistening sex and Sansa came, her body convulsed and jolted as wave after blissful wave of pleasure washed over her heated skin. When she came down from her perfect high Sansa looked down at her Master's lips which shined from her juices, as he licked her from his lips she heard his belt click open and next she knew, Sansa was straddling his hips. Her face pressed into his neck breathing him in as he guided his hard member into her entrance; Petyr moaned into her ear. His palms pulled her hips up and down as he thrust deep inside his girl, building a rhythm that was soon driving both them to the brink of insanity. Petyr's mouth sucked and bit at the place where her neck met her shoulder calling forth a purple bruise that marked her as his, he could feel her heart thumping around her ribcage like a drum and wasn't surprised to find it matched his own. One hand remained on her hip while the tattooed one snaked up to cup her breast through her green silk blouse, Gods he loved to hear her moan. Her walls fluttered around him, she was close again, and no sooner had he registered it she came, her body clamped down on his and her nails dug into his shoulders so deep they would probably bleed. Sansa had fallen over the edge for a second time and Petyr came tumbling after her. 

“Sansa!” He moaned into her ear when he came, continuing to thrust through their shared orgasm.

For a long time after Petyr and Sansa just sat there pressed against one another panting, nothing needed to be said and so nothing was. 


	27. Messed Up Plans

Two weeks had gone by in relative peace, Sansa grew stronger every single day and things at Lion and Stag were beginning to get back to normal. Petyr liked normal it was mundane and easy to manipulate as he wished. Or at least everything was normal until Wednesday morning. Petyr had woken up with Sansa in his arms, gone downstairs, flicked on the coffee machine and grabbed the day's newspaper from his lawn.

 

**Tywin Lannister Murdered!**

 

That was _not_ a headline he wanted to read, not yet. Petyr stormed upstairs in nothing but his navy sleep pants and barged into Tyrion's room, the blonde lay on his chest with messy hair and no clothes. Tyrion started awake when the newspaper was chucked at his face.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Tyrion flipped himself over and wiped his eyes before picking up the newspaper and reading the headline, there was no denying that Tyrion was the cause of Tywin's death. Things were quiet for a time, nothing but the sound of soft breaths and heartbeats filling the room; Petyr's stare felt like a heavy weight on Tyrion's shoulders.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you.” Tyrion actually meant that, but Petyr didn't care. “I was at your club and when I left I saw him leaving the casino down the street. I couldn't help it, I followed him. He went back to Casterly Rock, the beloved home mansion he banished me from. After I broke in I saw the crossbow from way back when on the wall and... we were going to kill him anyway! And it just happened, I wiped everything down afterwards.”

“Oh that makes it all alright then, doesn't it?!” Petyr normally kept his cards hidden but he was pissed off and was yet to get a cup of goddamn coffee.

“I took the CCTV tapes too.”

Tyrion was right, they had planned on killing Tywin Lannister all along but Tyrion had gone against the plan and now Petyr had to fix it. That peaceful two weeks Baelish had enjoyed was well and truly over.

“Fine.” Petyr growled. His hair still a mess and the smell of coffee had started to drift up the stairs. “Tywin's dead now, there's nothing I can do about it. But you know what this means, you have to leave King's Landing... today.” Petyr had wanted Tyrion gone for months now and with the CEO of Lion and Stag gone all hell would break loose. “Cersei will know it was you, even without evidence she'll decide it was you. I think it's time for you to go and build that company with the Targaryen girl.”

“I plan to.” Was all the blonde said before slumping back down into the pillows for a few moments more sleep.

Petyr didn't say another word he just turned and left, he needed to get to Lion and Stag before Cersei started killing all of his future employees just for breathing when her father couldn't. She'd want Jaime back from Dorne too, Petyr would have to distract her long enough for Tyrion to get across the Narrow Sea or they were all going to hell in a hand basket.

First things first though, he wanted coffee and to kiss his girl.

 

XXXX

 

Hot sun shone down and burnt the sand, it was so hot that in some areas brown sand had tuned to glass. To the natives of Dorne the weather couldn't be considered anything but moderate, however, to Jaime it felt like he would melt somewhere in the next five to ten minutes. He could get used to it though, Myrcella would love it in such weather, Tommen would too. He sat in the second board meeting in as many days with new executives for Vaith Incorporated listening to them go on and on about what was best for the company; Jaime was pretty sure he no longer needed to be there for these meetings any more.

Orwen Graceford sat at the far end of the table furthest away from Jaime. The older man with balding  black hair was Vaith's new CLO, Chief Legal Office, just like Pycelle was for Lion and Stag, Graceford had taken over almost all the legal aspects the instant he'd taken  the job , no one envied him.  Opposite Graceford sat Thirl Phyre CTO, Varys had managed to steal the Chief Technology Officer from the Martells not a week before and next to him Noely Allyrion, who was just generally known as  _ The Bitch,  _ no matter how good at her job she was Noely wasn't  anything compared to Varys.  Viktorya Cratter,  the youngest and most beautiful woman that had ever stepped foot in Vaith Incorporated, she had long black hair that hung in delicate curls  and a  slightly inappropriate  white dress that clung to her curves in all the right places,  she was conniving and knew how to form a plan. Essentially she was a female version of Baelish, which was fitting considering she was his counterpart at Vaith. Lastly was Brienne who sat by Jaime as always silently taking in all the information she could. 

“The company is doing better than Baelish and Varys predicted.” Said Thirl Phyre before leaning back and taking a sip of water.

“Pycelle transferred all the relevant data last week and since the Vaith family went bankrupt they have absolutely no chance of ever getting a foothold back in the company.”

They knew all this, had done for months and yet everyday Jaime had to sit there and listen to the same four people talk about the same things, then just rinse and repeat.

“I've been corresponding with Baelish for the last month.” Viktorya began. “He's had some incredible ideas about how to boost our income throughout the first fiscal year of us being in charge. It has to be said that he's all but running the company at this point-”

Viktorya found herself cut off by Jaime's cell ringing, the whole room's attention turned to the Lannister. He was just thankful for a distraction, in seconds the sleek black phone was pressed up against his ear. The whole room watched his face drop.

“Get out!” He suddenly yelled startling everyone in the room, if the blonde had been paying attention he'd have seen Graceford jump. No one moved. “Now!”

There was a tone in his voice that wasn't anger, it was something much more dangerous, sorrow. The executives packed up their things quickly, Thirl held the door for the girls but Orwen barged passed them. The one person who didn't flee the room was Brienne, she wore a pale blue shirt and black slacks, practical but not overly feminine; Jaime liked that Brienne was more focused on who she was rather than what she wore. Cersei, Noely, Viktorya, the assistants at Lion and Stag, they all focused on what designer name they put on their backs but Brienne was so different. Brienne waited in silence as Jaime listened to whoever had called him, it was bad, she knew that and she knew that he needed the quiet. So Brienne stayed quiet.

Jaime didn't say a word as he listened, just remained still with that look of utter sorrow plastered on his face. Finally he hung up but the quietude remained.

“What is it Jaime?” Brienne asked softly, concern blatant in her voice. Jaime said nothing and somehow Brienne found herself sliding her hand over Jaime's own, a sign of comfort that finally got the blonde man to look at her. “Jaime, tell me.”

“My father's dead.” He said simply. “He was murdered. Cersei says Tyrion did it.”

“Oh Jaime, I'm so sorry.” Brienne wasn't used to being comforting but she tried her best. “I thought you hadn't seen your brother in years?” She asked and Jaime responded with a quick _I haven't._ “What do you want to do, Jaime?”

“I have to go back to King's Landing. Need to be with Cersei.”

The security expert had never seen him so blank, it was strange and actually rather concerning but she said nothing about it, Brienne knew Jaime needed to stay focused.

“Alright.” She began calmly. “I'll keep an eye on the executives and make sure that everything stays up and running. Shouldn't be too hard.”

“No.” Came a quick response. “No, can... can you... come with me?”

Jaime didn't know why he asked that of her, when Joffrey died all those months ago he'd been entirely focused on his sister and the distraught pain she felt, now though, there was a sense of fear about him. The blonde man couldn't understand why. If it really was Tyrion that killed their father then Cersei would never stop hunting him besides, if it wasn't Tyrion their sister would still blame him, he'd lost enough of his family. His sister wasn't a good person, Jaime knew that, but she was his sister and he loved her. He needed Brienne though, moral support and all that.

“Me?” She was just as surprised he'd ask as Jaime was. “If that's what you want then of course I'll go to King's Landing with you.”

“Thank you, Brienne.”

 

XXXX

 

Petyr burst awake to the sound of his beloved Sansa screaming at the top of her lungs, loud and painful to his ears. It took him a moment or two to realise that Tristan was crying and the sun was so close to starting to rise, a spark of orange balancing on the rim of the world waiting to burst forth as a new day full of so many possibilities.

“Sansa!” She was thrashing back and forth to the point that Petyr had to hold her down. “Sansa wake up!" The redhead suddenly bolted upright almost throwing Petyr from the bed. “It's alright, Sweetling. I'm here.”

She panted in search for desperately needed air, her skin was damp with cold sweat and hair stuck to her forehead.

“Master!”

Tristan continued to cry but it was background noise in that moment, his girl was scared and Petyr found all his attention focused on her.

“I'm here Sansa.” Baelish told her softly as he held her close and pushed away stray locks of red hair. “It's okay, baby girl.”

“Don't send me back.” She begged, her pants turning to tears and panic. “Please, I'll be good. I will! I'll be good. Please, Master?”

Petyr took a deep breath, his moss colored eyes stung from having just woken but he said nothing about it, instead he kept his tone light and gripped her tighter.

“Listen to me, you're safe. He's dead and you'll never go back. You're mine.” Sansa clung to Petyr's naked chest so tightly that her nails caused him to bleed; neither cared. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No Master.” It was hardly a whisper but still Baelish heard her. “Thank you, Master.”

“For what?”

“For being my Master.”

That made Petyr smile, a real smile and not because it fed his ego every time she said _Master_ or because she clung to him like a lifeline but because of how strong and brave she was, how Sansa had rebuilt herself. Baelish kissed her lips. He opened his mouth to speak but Tristan let out a huge scream that pulled their attention to the boy, he'd been beside Sansa the whole time.

“I'll take care of him.” She said through her tears, pushing them away and concentrating on the child Petyr had let her keep as her own.

They boy calmed quickly in her arms as she wiped away his little tears, and cuddled him close like only a Mother could. Petyr hated to admit it but the child was starting to grow on him, the boy didn't cry, often, and gave Sansa a true purpose. He leaned in and kissed her forehead once more before standing up off the bed.

“I'm going to take a shower, Sweetling.” The dark-haired man stretched letting his body crack satisfyingly. “I have an early meeting at Lion and Stag so I'm going to my club first to deal with some paperwork. Would you like to come?” He questioned as an after thought.

“Please.”

“Alright. You should get some more sleep, I'll wake you when it's time to get up.”

He kissed her again and then headed off to the bathroom, door shutting with a quiet _click._ Early morning rays of life were just starting creep past the window panes into their bedroom, Sansa spent more time in Petyr's room than her own so _their_ was pretty accurate.

“I'm sorry I scared you, Tristan.” She told the raven haired boy with love.

“Mama!” Tristan beamed and Sansa smiled.

Only a short time ago that word would have forced her to tears and terrified her beyond belief but now it made her heart fill with pride. That was what she was now. The Lannisters had taken away her family but Petyr had given her a new one, a little reluctantly but still he'd done it. Master couldn't bring her parents back to life or her siblings but he gave her a son, and she had him. There was so much Petyr Baelish had given her so much, she wasn't afraid of every tiny thing any more, her own shadow didn't make her recoil in fear; she wouldn't let a nightmare rip it all away from her. There was no Joffrey, no chains and where there had once been horror there was joy.

Sansa fell asleep to the sound of running water and her son's breaths.

 

XXXX

 

Six in the morning found Petyr driving Sansa, Tristan, Tyrion and Lady to his club, Tyrion wanted to have some fun with one of the girls before going to the airport and Baelish had some work to tend to anyway, it was early but the club would close soon, The Mockingbird always stayed open late into Sundays. They went in via the back entrance as they'd taken to doing if the blonde was with them, Ros had been waiting just like Petyr had told her to be and he'd never seen the little lion vanish so eagerly, Lady settled down on the floor of his office by Sansa's feet while his girl played with Tristan. Petyr thought things would calm down once Tyrion was out of their hair, off to do whatever the hell it was with that Targaryen girl; he could breath again.

Not five minutes had gone by between entering The Mockingbird and closing his office door before Olyvar was knocking on his door and poking his head inside cautiously; Oly had no idea what the boss and Alayne would be doing in there.

“Em, Boss?” The blonde started, his pants were rumpled and where there was normally a powered blue shirt lay nothing but soft white flesh. “Donte Coen doesn't want to pay his bill for Armeca, something about her cock sucking skills being shit.”

Petyr sighed and muttered something under his breath along the lines of _do I have to do everything?_ Sansa just sat quietly with Copper and Tristan in her arms, she could practically sense Petyr reaching for his cigarettes and when blue eyes looked up lighter and cigarette were in his hands. There were no smoking signs almost everywhere but Petyr never seemed to care; it was his club.

“I'll deal with it.”

And deal with it Petyr did, not ten minute later Donte Coen was bruised, beaten and paying up, Littlefinger new he could never win in a fair fight but he knew how to inflict pain, especially when two of his bouncers had tied Coen to a chair in one of the spare rooms. Donte Coen had always been a pathetic and cheep man and by the end of his encounter with him Petyr had banned the moron from his club. He'd sent the taller of his bouncers, Tyrell - a slender man with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair who was their version of Hannibal Lecter minus the long pig – to find Ros and have her sent to his office.

When he got back to his inner sanctum Tristan was asleep on the couch with Lady cuddled around him like a protector while Sansa read the book she'd brought with her, the redhead struggled with words but she really pushed herself to learn to read fluently so as she could one day teach Tristan. Petyr was proud of his girl as he pulled her onto his lap at his desk and started going over the clubs accounts.

Sansa was starting to nod off herself when Ros finally knocked and entered his office bringing a gust of hot air with her, Ros' hair was an absolute mess as though it hadn't been brushed yet and she was still zipping up her dress, there wasn't even a hint of make-up.

“Tyrell woke me up. You wanted to see me?”

Ros raised an eyebrow at Alayne cuddled up to his chest, she'd seen it once or twice before but it was still a little strange to her, Littlefinger wasn't a _cuddly_ man and he certainly wasn't the romantic type and yet he seemed to be quite taken with the younger redhead; he'd even taken in the baby boy too. Petyr looked up.

“I did yes. I want you to take Alayne shopping today, spoil her.”

A strange request but not the worst Ros had ever gotten from him; it also kept Sansa busy while Petyr dealt with Tywin's death.

“I don't need anything, Master” Sansa, or Alayne, reasoned.

Ros didn't even raise an eyebrow at the word _Master_ she didn't want to know what Littlefinger and his teenager were into, if she got paid and had a roof over her head she didn't give a shit about anything; as for the child snoozing on his couch Ros wasn't even going there.

“I know.” Said Petyr before pressing a soft kiss to his girl's lips. “I like spoiling you though.”

Ros had been dying for an excuse to go shopping and her boss' plaything was a good enough one in her eyes.

“I don't mind taking her.” The older redhead told him pulling Petyr's attention back to her.

“You're not coming?” And that attention went straight back to the girl in his arms.

“No, Sweetling.”

“But-”

“You can do it.” He assured while cutting his girl off.

Petyr knew she'd be scared but Sansa was strong enough to do it, the trip would be good for her, doing something without him as a constant safety net. Sansa could do it, of that Petyr had no doubt.

“You're my brave girl right?”

Reluctantly Sansa answered.

“Yes, Master.”

Ros had endured just about enough of whatever _this_ was and found herself speaking before her brain had given her permission.

“Cool! We'll leave the dog and the kid with Olyvar and-” Petyr cut her off suddenly and without mercy.

“No.” He told her firmly. “Lady goes too, she doesn't leave Alyane. As for Tristan, I'll take him with me.”

Petyr seriously didn't want the boy with him for any length of time but he could see Sansa needed a break even if she wouldn't come out and say so, he could cope with Tristan for a few hours for his Sweetling. Everything would be fine.

After slipping on her long chestnut wig Sansa reluctantly obeyed her Master and followed Ros out into the world with nothing but Lady and rather large wad of cash held together by a sterling sliver money clip. The world was rather horrific without the moss eyed man by her side but he'd said she was brave and strong, Sansa wanted him to be proud of her which meant she'd do all she could to be brave.  _ Don't come back until you've spent it all, get Lady something nice,  _ he'd told her and that was exactly what Sansa and Ros were going to do: obey. 


	28. Audit

Petyr knew he'd made a mistake the instant he set foot into Lion and Stag's reception on the ground floor, Myranda the receptionist had just stared at him as he walked over to the elevators with her mouth gaping open in what he could only describe as a combination of confusion, disgust and fear; fear that she'd fallen into some kind of alternate dimension or a strange game of spot the difference. Petyr ignored her however, and hit the button for floor fifty-one. 

The familiar sound of a counterweight filled the large metal box as it assented towards the top floor, Petyr could feel Tristan's bold blue eyes on him and the older man looked down, the boy was smiling. Sansa had dressed him in a pair of navy khaki pants a grey shirt and a little navy waistcoat, it only then dawned on Petyr that Sansa had dressed the boy to match her Master's style, thought Petyr preferred black. Baelish sighed. 

“I should have left you in the brothel.”

The dark-haired man couldn't help but laugh, if anyone had heard him say that they'd have called social services in a heartbeat.

“Dada.” Muttered the raven haired boy, his locks were starting to curl at the ends almost like Petyr's did if he let it get too long. 

“Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm Daddy. You do know the only reason you're still here is because I want to keep everything even after I'm dead, right?”

No response the toddler didn't understand and Petyr didn't expect him to, no doubt Tristan only understood the word  _Daddy_ and he seemed happy enough with that. Little fingers clung to Petyr's coal black shirt and the boy's head rested delicately against his chest while Baelish supported him with one arm. Finally the silver doors slid open and Littlefinger stepped out onto the executives floor, more staring from goggling eyes but it ended quickly when they realised the CFO could see them. The man with grey at his temple made his way to his office on the other side of the floor while Tristan looked around with wonder in his little baby blues. 

Baelish found Gwendolyn sat at her desk as usual when he rounded the corner to his office, she had her dyed blonde hair tied back in a loose braid and wore a black ponte shift dress with a square neckline and three-quarter sleeves, a dress he'd notice she favoured. Her eyes flashed with surprise when she noticed Tristan but she had the common courtesy not to outright stare at the boy. 

“Hello sir, your mail is on your desk.” She told him before flashing a smile at Tristan who clung to his father's chest. “And whose this little cutie?” 

Petyr thought to himself for a moment, _she's a mother. Oh this could work nicely._ He shuffled the boy in his arms and made a show of pushing a dark lock out of the boy's eyes before answering.

“This is Tristan, my son.”

“You have a _son?_ ”

“Yes.” _Let's not get into how and why._ “I do.”

“He looks like you, sir.” Petyr highly doubted that. “How old is he?” 

“Eleven months.” Petyr didn't like personal conversations but he needed Gwendolyn to like him and Tristan right now. “Would you mind taking care of him for me while I'm in with the other executives?” 

“Of course, I'd love to.”

Gwendolyn reached out happily for Tristan who went after Petyr managed to prise his little fingers from his shirt,  _do I need a crowbar?_ That was getting to be a regular question. His blonde assistant seemed to have the magic touch though because almost instantly Tristan calmed down and relaxed. With a  _ bye Tristan  _ to keep him looking like a good father Petyr walked away, off to his meeting. 

“Dada?”

“Oh don't worry, Angel.” Said Gwendolyn with a red lined smile. “Daddy wouldn't want to leave you for too long.”

Petyr nearly laughed at that as he continued walking,  _Daddy begs to differ._

Varys, Cersei, Pycelle, Brienne and new CEO Jaime were already in the boardroom when Petyr got there, it took him only a second to take his usual seat by Varys who offered him a  _good morning_ that Baelish hardly responded to. The rarely seen CTO entered a second or two later, Petyr didn't know why he still had a job because the man knew absolutely nothing about technology. 

Cersei looked ready to kill, it had only been six weeks since Joffrey was buried and now Tywin was dead too. Tyrion had been reckless and killed him far too soon but Petyr could work with it, he always had a backup plan - and a backup plan for his back up plan, yes he could work with Jaime as CEO. Finally Roose and his son Ramsay came in to the boardroom slumping down onto the two vacant chairs closest to the door.  _The gang's all here then_ thought Petyr with a smug smile. 

“You snatching kids now, Baelish?” Asked Ramsay with a sadistic chuckle. 

“Starting your whores a big young, don't you think?” Seemed both Boltons wanted to make jokes, Pycelle was the only one to laugh though. 

“He's my son.” Came Petyr's easy answer and it was rather amusing to watch everyone raise an eyebrow. 

There was an anger in the room though that kept anyone from speaking and it radiated from Cersei Lannister, she only had two moods; angry or homicidal there was no middle ground unless she was with Jaime. 

“Can we get to the point?!” She growled, that seemed to knock everyone back into business mode.

“Cersei is right.” Began Jaime at the head of the table, Tywin's old seat. “Father is gone which means I am CEO. Baelish, I understand that Father left you in charge once before.” Petyr nodded. “I want you to do it again until I've gone over all of Father's paperwork and I've finished with the estate.” 

“No.” Cersei practically screamed. “I'll do it.” 

“No, Cersei. Baelish will, I need you with me.” Jaime told her calmly. 

“But-”

“Cersei.”

Jaime's tone was calm but his eyes were full of dominance that was rarely seen and it shut his sister up rather quickly.

“Baelish knows what he's doing, according to Varys there was actually an increase in figures while he was running things. You'll deal with father's _other_ business.”

Jaime didn't say it but everyone knew he was talking about the drugs, guns and women. Cersei had always liked that part of her father's business to Lion and Stag, the lioness let out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest; she looked like a teenager throwing a tantrum. 

“Fine.”

Petyr's smug smile grew and he couldn't help thinking _back in the saddle again._ The rest of the room remained oblivious to his amusement and just remained quiet while Jaime continued to speak.

“Brienne, I'd like you to please work with Bolton and his son, Ramsay, to make sure security is at its best.” Jaime sighed. “Whoever did this to Father may pose a threat to the rest of us or our staff.”

“Of course, Jaime.”

Brienne just wanted to help her friend in his time of need, at first she'd hated him but now Brienne had great respect for the blonde man to her right. 

“Who even are you?”

It was rather clear that Cersei didn't like the blonde newcomer, then again Cersei Lannister didn't like anyone. The taller woman wasn't intimidated though. 

“My name is Brienne.” She said. “I work for Sapphire Isle, it's a security company based in Tarth-” 

The lioness cut her off.

“Fascinating, and why are you here?”

Jaime could do without his sister and best friend getting into some kind of cat fight, which he knew Cersei would be more than happy with. 

“Cersei be nice.” He told her firmly. “Brienne is here because I asked her to be. She's better than anyone I've ever met at her job.” 

“Thanks.” Roose muttered under his breath. 

“Yes, Bolton I am aware you're in the room and Brienne is better, get over it.” The CEO shot back and Bolton fell silent, Ramsay just stared at his father with a look of utter disgust. 

For a time the meeting got back on task, everyone knew what they were meant to be doing though Cersei was still pissed she didn't get the CEO crown, which was good because Petyr had just sent it off to be polished and resized for his head. The entire meeting went by with Baelish wearing a  _ fuck you Cersei _ smile. Suddenly Pycelle started to speak.

“Sir, surly I should be left in charge.” It took the room a second to realise he was continuing from three conversations ago. “I am head of the legal department and in this frenzy caused by the passing of your father-” No one liked it when Pycelle started to ramble on and Jaime cut him off with a raised hand. 

“I've made my decision, Pycelle.” 

“Aww, passed up again.” Petyr teased and even Varys grinned. 

“Some just aren't cut out for power.” The bald CHRO added. 

Unsurprisingly it was Brienne to put a stop to the teasing and got back to the reason they were all there; Lion and Stag. Petyr liked the blonde woman, she seemed capable and intelligent which was unusual in the modern world, she also seemed to have helped Jaime grow from the moron who just wanted to play knight to a competent adult; something Petyr had never expected to see. 

“We need to make sure that the other companies run by Lion and Stag don't go into panic-” Whatever Brienne was going to say next was cut off by Cersei. 

“What does this have to do with you? You don't work here and even if you did you're security. Go guard the door or reach something on a high shelf.” She snarled and Ramsay snorted.

_ Shame Cersei could be pretty if she didn't frown so much  _ Petyr's mind muttered. 

“Cersei.” That shut his sister up again. “Go on Brienne.” Jaime offered his friend a slight smile. 

“Thank you, Jaime.” The tiny smile was returned. “As I was saying, if the other companies start to panic they'll lose faith in Lion and Stag. We can't have that.” 

Baelish certainly liked her, he had been about to say the same thing but Varys started speaking first. 

“I already have my little birds working on that so don't worry, my dear.” Varys always sounded calm no matter the situation. 

“I have the ear of most of the other executives so I don't think we'll have a problem with them, as for the rest of the staff they'll believe what we tell them as long as we phrase it right.” Said Petyr.

“You sure?” Asked Brienne with a look of incredulity on her sharp features. 

“Very.” Petyr and Varys responded in unison. 

Jaime was getting bored with the meeting he'd called, he'd never been one for boardrooms but it had to be done, almost everything was dealt with and Jaime wanted to be out as soon as possible. 

“Bolton, show Brienne our security protocol. In fact show her everything, give her a tour since she's not been here before. It would be best if she knew every camera.” 

“Of course, sir.”

Roose nodded and reluctantly agreed, Ramsay's look of utter hatred for his father only grew. Jaime turned to Petyr. 

“Baelish, I was informed this morning that Lion and Stag is being audited. I don't want a fuck up because someone from finance has put a decimal point in the wrong place, as CFO you should be able to handle this.” 

“I do thrive on a challenge.” Littlefinger grinned while Pycelle licked his wounds caused by being sidelined yet again. 

“Varys, along with keeping the staff under control I want a you to find every rumour, every theory on what happened to my father and crush it.” Varys nodded. “Pycelle with this audit we can't be too careful, look at everything father was doing and see if anything can bite us in the ass.” 

“It would be my pleasure sir. Your father trusted me to-” Yet again Cersei cut someone off. 

“No he didn't and shut up.”

Jaime sighed.

“If there is nothing else I think we're done here. Sister, come with me to the docks.”

The room emptied quickly with executives off to complete the tasks they'd been given, Petyr just hoped Sansa hadn't had some kind of panic attack on her outing with Ros; he'd had no phone call though so he was hopeful. 

When the Cleaner returned to his office Gwendolyn had vanished from her desk with Tristan, Petyr looked around and soon found her stood by the water cooler with Varys' assistant Tiana, Pycelle's assistant who Petyr thought was called Piper as well as some guy from the mail room. They were all cooing over _baby Baelish _as they'd dubbed him and Tristan seemed happy enough, after only a second or two Gwendolyn turned to see her boss at the door to his office and smiled.

“Look Tristan, Daddy is back.”

Petyr's adopted son reached out for him as Baelish came closer but he didn't reach for the boy, he looked to Gwendolyn. 

“I'm going to need a copy every financial report for Lion and Stag as well as every company we control over the last five years. We're being audited, so tell accounting that if they piss me off during this they'll find themselves jobless.” Petyr let that sink in for a second before looking down to Tristan who was still reaching for him and muttering _dada. _ “Now, give me my son.”

Petyr never thought he'd have to say that but Tristan was his son now whether he liked it or not, Gwendolyn handed over the child and ruffled his hair before wandering off to do as her boss had asked. Piper, Tiana and the mail room guy dispersed too.

“Dada back.” Muttered Tristan happily.

The CFO carried his son back over to his office and locked himself away to deal with the world of audits and running Lion and Stag once more. He was _so_ close.


	29. Utter Peace

It was late in the day when Sansa – or Alayne as she'd been called all day – and Ros arrived back at The Mockingbird, the redhead was proud of herself because she'd managed to remain utterly calm throughout the whole day, the reason they were late was down to the amount of outfits Ros had made her try on and model, something about wanting to look _sexy for daddy_ which  Sansa hadn't understood or dare ask about. The club was in full swing and people littered the place like every other night, Ros told her that she'd store the mountain of bags in her apartment above the club and she could grab them when they left before wandering off to get ready for the night. On the way down the stairs from her apartment she came across Mads who held Tristan and Sansa raced over to get her little boy almost knocking Ros over on the way. 

“The boss said to keep him in your apartment, Ros.” Said Mads with a thick accent. “Tyrell radioed and said you were back.” 

Sansa managed a thank you when she took Tristan into her arms and Ros didn't seem surprised or annoyed by the knowledge that Petyr had a key to her apartment, in fact she'd have been shocked if he didn't. As more and more people entered the club Sansa started to grow uncomfortable along with her son, they quickly turned back to Petyr's office with Lady following behind her and pushed open the door to step inside, she heard Olyvar shout something across the room like _Alayne I  wouldn't- _but it was too late.

Inside her Master sat at his desk as usual but there was an older redhead perched on his lap kissing him, in that moment Sansa's heart fell apart and crumbled to dust, she'd thought she was important to him and all her self-doubt and conditioning came flooding back.  _ Sansa is a pet, nothing more. Sansa has no right to anything. He's the Master, he can do what he likes. Sansa is nothing!  _ Her mind was in such a state of horror and sorrow that she didn't notice the way her Master's body was tense or that he made no attempt to kiss back, azure eyes fell to the dark hardwood floor and she gripped Tristan tighter. The older redhead looked up after a moment or two and looked straight at Sansa who still wore her chestnut wig, Petyr all but spat the taste of her from his mouth. 

“Well I should get back to Robin, I told him I wouldn't be gone long.”

Sansa could feel eyes on her and desperately wanted to vanish into oblivion with Tristan, she couldn't bring herself to look up.  _ Should Sansa kneel?  _ Her mind ask while trying not to cry. Lysa kissed Petyr again and then got up to leave, she paused by Sansa with a look of utter disgust on her aged face before turning back to Littlefinger. 

“You shouldn't let her use you as a daycare, Petyr. Whores shouldn't even be allowed to have children.”  _And nor should crazy bitches_ said Baelish's mind. 

Without another word Lysa Arryn slammed the door shut behind her and was gone, leaving Lady growing at the space she'd once occupied. Petyr wiped as much of her lipstick from his face with his hand as he could while all but running to Sansa, he could see how broken she'd just been. His _Littlefinger _ persona was gone and _Sansa's Master and protector _ was back. He pulled his girl into a hug and felt how tense with fear her body had gone, Petyr felt a suddenly spark telling him to find a roof and push Lysa from it. 

“Don't cry, Sansa. Please don't cry.” 

The tears flowed now and that urge to kill Lysa only intensified, still he made no attempt to let go of Sansa and his son. Lady snuggled into Sansa's leg to offer her comfort. 

“Sansa... thought she was... special to Master.”

He hated that she used _Sansa _ again instead of _I_ but at the same time found himself grateful that she still possessed the courage to speak to him, _my brave baby girl._

“Please don't start talking like that again,  Sweetling.” If they hadn't have known better his tone would have sounded begging. “And you are special. Sansa, you're important.” 

“Did... did San-I do something wrong? I can learn to be better.” 

Petyr had thought they were done with all that but it was only then, stood in his office holding her that Baelish realised that part of her would never truly be gone. 

“What? No, you didn't do anything wrong and you're perfect just the way you are.” Petyr told her honestly. 

“Please don't replace me with her.” It was a plea. _Did Joffrey say he would replace her? _

“Never! You're mine remember. She is nothing to me.” Baelish tried to convince his darling girl. “Just an annoying and obsessive bitch that thinks I'm in love with her. Her name is Lysa Arryn and she's your aunt.”  _ Probably best to tell her it all at once rather than keep stopping and starting.  _

“What?” Sansa wiped away tears. 

Petyr sighed. 

“She's your mother's sister. We all grew up together and she's been obsessed with me for as long as I can remember. I've been trying to convince Jon Arryn to merge his company with Lion and Stag or at least form a partnership for years. He says I'm too  _ nakedly ambitious.  _ Lysa is his wife and nothing but a means to an end.” Petyr was relieved to feel Sansa relax in his arms a little. “I don't love her, I don't even like her and I certainly won't replace you.” 

“So... so I can stay?” His girl asked while trying not to sniffle. “Be with Master?”

“Yes, of course.” Baelish pressed a kiss to the top of Sansa's head before pulling away just enough to look at those beautiful eyes, still no eye contact, never would be. “How about we go home and you show me all the clothes you bought? I'd love to see.” 

“Okay, Mater.” Sansa managed, he could still hear the fear in her tone but it was far more subtle than just a few moments ago. 

Uncertainty clung to her like a shroud but all her Master did was try to assure her and make Sansa feel safe. He told her that she was important and special, Sansa wanted to believe him and she did everything in her power to silence the voice in the back of her head screaming  _he doesn't want you._ When her tears had fully stopped Petyr went up to Ros' apartment to get her things and then took his girl home. 

Petyr didn't care what people thought about him but with Sansa it was different, he cared what she thought. 

 

XXXX

 

Night had well and truly set in by the time Petyr, Sansa, Lady and little Tristan got home, the boy was already asleep in her arms and Lady kept yawning in the back seat; which was rather disconcerting to see in his rear view mirror. As soon as they stepped into the house and Petyr had flicked on the lights Sansa started speaking. 

“Can Tristan and I go to bed?”

Petyr could tell she was still hurt and confused, from Sansa's point of view she had no right to be jealous and hurt but she was anyway. Baelish sighed. 

“Of course you can, Sweetling. Come here first though.” 

The redhead obeyed and let Petyr engulf her in his arms along with Tristan, he just held her for a moment or two. 

“Lysa Arryn is nothing but an annoyance to me.” He told her again, firmly getting that message into her head.

“Master doesn't have to explain. I'm yours, you can do what you want.” Her voice was quiet.

“Trust me Sansa, she is  _not_ what I want.” Petyr leaned in to press his lips to her own, it only took a moment for her to kiss him back. “You're my special girl. What are you?” 

“Yours, Master.”

“Close enough.” He kissed his girl again. “Off to bed with you...” A sudden thought popped into his dangerous little mind. “... or would you like a bath?”

Petyr hadn't physically bathed her since the first night she'd spent with him, Sansa felt drained but she could see the way her Master's eyes ghosted over her delicate form and Tristan was already asleep. He looked like he really wanted to and she couldn't say _no_ to him, never him.

“Please, Master.” Though the redhead didn't look up she could feel Petyr grinning. 

“Go upstairs then and I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Sansa nodded and obeyed her Master carrying Tristan into her bedroom and setting him down on the couch surrounded by pillows she used as his bed. Petyr appeared behind her a few moments later holding a cut crystal glass of his favoured whiskey, he took a sip before speaking. 

“No more of that, Sweetling.” His voice was deep and dominant. “I have a present for young Tristan.” He took another sip. 

“You do?” Sansa grinned with excitement. 

“Yep. Come on.” Petyr gestured for her to follow him and left the room while drinking the last of his whiskey. “Bring Tristan.” 

The redhead pulled the sleeping child back into her arms grateful that he didn't stir, the raven haired little boy was a good sleeper, ballerina flat clad feet followed along the hallways and stopped a room that thinking about it Sansa had never entered before. Petyr reached for the door handle but came to a sudden halt and turned back to his girl and new son. 

“Close your beautiful blue eyes, Sweetling.” He told her softly. “We're going to do this like a...  _family surprise.”_

Sansa's lips upturned in a little simper, the word _family_ wasn't normally used around Sansa without _murder_ or _dead_ being in the same sentence somewhere, she liked the way Petyr said the word though because it felt like the beautiful future rather than the evil past. His girl shuffled Tristan in her arms and did as requested, Petyr just looked at her for a time taking in just how gorgeous Sansa really was and revelling in the amount of trust she granted him. Soon though she started to show signs of worry and it was only then that the Cleaner realised how long they'd been stood in silence, it snapped Baelish back to the world around him and took hold of his girl's elbow so he could lead her into the room. 

Her feet moved slowly, careful so as not to trip over something but as soon as she stood in the centre of the room she felt Petyr press a kiss to her forehead; she was the only one to ever see his tender side. 

“Open.”

Sansa gasped when her azure orbs flew open to find a wonderfully decorated bedroom just for Tristan. The walls were a deep blue like the ocean at night with light wood furniture and the most adorable little crib she'd ever seen, there were toys lined up on shelves and a chair for Sansa to sit and read to him; she felt like crying. Petyr had done it so as he could have Sansa back to himself, he could see she liked it but Baelish asked her anyway. 

“Do you like it, baby girl?” He asked from behind her.

Said baby girl started to nod frantically with a gargantuan grin.

“Yes! Yes, Master!”

Only a short time ago Sansa had no idea how to feel, how to cry or laugh, yet now right in front of him he saw her happy and full of life, something she'd never thought possible for herself. Petyr was cunning, ambitious, sarcastic, highly observant and just a little bit sadistic but Sansa was the brave one, full of courage and strength. 

“This is why I had you out of the house all day. People have been bringing furniture in.”

“People did all this in one day?”

“When you have as much money as I do then yes, it takes a day.” She felt his hands on her hips pulling her back to his chest, he still held the glass but it had long since been emptied. “Now.” He began while pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “Put Tristan in his nice new bed and let your Master give you a bath.”

With one more kiss Petyr left the room probably to get another glass of rich amber liquid. Sansa looked around the room with a sparkle in her dazzling eyes, she snuggle a still sleeping Tristan closer. 

“Look what your daddy did for you.” Somehow that word just seemed right, and no matter how aloof he acted towards Tristan, Sansa knew he cared. “Isn't it beautiful?” 

There was no response though since the boy snoozed peacefully in her arms, he looked utterly adorable when she settled him down in his new crib and tucked him up in his pale blue blanket. She took one of the toys down from the shelf, a brown bear with a little green bow, and pressed it into his sleeping arms. Her Master had a plan for the boy now, something about _legacy_ but Sansa knew he was growing to care for Tristan, even if he denied it. 

“Night Tristan.” She whispered.

“Mama.” Muttered the boy before drifting back to sleep.

The boy really had given her a purpose. She left the room as quietly as possible and headed towards the Master bedroom's en suit. Inside the white room stood Petyr by the bathtub watching it fill with hot water, his suit jacket had vanished and the sleeves of his Dublin green shirt had been rolled up as far as they would go; the glass had been refilled and hung loosely from one hand while the other tattooed one tested the temperature of the water. 

“Thank you for Tristan's room. It's beautiful.”

Petyr turned to face her and took another little sip of his whiskey, his normally perfectly trimmed moustache was starting to look messy thanks to the day's stubble build up, it was almost like seeing behind his mask.

“I'm glad you like it. Since he now has the name _Baelish_ I thought it was time he had a room of his own. Now, come here and let me take your clothes off.” He grinned.

A year ago those words would have terrified her into paralysis and she'd be lying if she said that there wasn't still a spark of horror in the back of her mind, if her body didn't tense every time she heard a loud noise, always would be. Now Sansa felt a surge of strength and courage as well that came directly from him. He made her brave. 

The redhead crossed the room to her Master and watched as he set his glass down by the basin before starting to undress her, she wore a silk blouse in a pale peach with little buttons that popped open quickly and slid down off her shoulders to the floor. Sansa had felt no embarrassment for nakedness in as long as she could remember. Lips were pressed to each and every one of the scars coating Sansa's pale neck, they were fading now she had a proper diet and sunlight but they would never be gone. Her waist high black skirt was next to fall followed quickly by purple panties and a matching bra, she was utterly stunning to Petyr, so beautifully perfect. 

Much to her surprise Baelish pressed a kiss to her soft lips then leaned in and lifted her over into the bath where he set her down gently. _Master is stronger than he looks,_ muttered her mind _._ The water was soothing on her skin, warm and relaxing, her Master knelt beside her with an easy smile rested on his lips. For a few moments of pure bliss he ran his long fingers up and down her milky thigh under the lavender scented water letting Sansa rest happily. Just after her eyes fell shut and her head drifted backwards to rest on the rim of the bath Petyr soaped up a dark green wash cloth and started to wipe away the sins of the day. Sansa had never felt so cared for, so treasured and she reviled in every single second of it, _this is how life should be. _She was his now, only his, and an owner needed to take care of his girl.

Time stopped as the steam drifted around the room and he muttered sweet nothings to her as she bathed, little things like _that's a good girl,_ and, _so beautiful,_ to be honest the redhead wasn't completely sure if he knew he was talking, the again did it matter? 

Once the bath water cooled he helped her out and dried her off with a fluffy white towel that smelt faintly of him. Sansa was in heaven, paradise, whatever people wanted to call it. Her Master even dried her hair for her, brushing it softly banishing the knots and tangles until nothing but delicate fire red locks were left. 

Utter peace.


	30. The New VP Of Lion And Stag Enterprises

Brienne and a rather frazzled looking Jaime Lannister were at Tyrin's desk, Brienne had the high backed leather chair while the blonde man hunched over it, on the oversized desk  sat a desktop computer, a notebook lying open, and a stack of papers sitting under a  lion shaped paperweight  while others had been strewn about in a state of half organised clutter. The office hadn't been touched or changed since Tywin had been murdered but Jaime needed to go through his father's paperwork and thankfully Brienne had agreed to help him. He owed her so much.

T he office  had been overly  decorated  with Lion sculptures and  the  occasional pot plant  that was now half dead . Three walls were gold  in  color while the forth, behind Tywin's desk was a floor to ceiling window that looked out over the financial district.  No on e knew that once Petyr took over he planned on breaking Ty w in's office back down into three and increasing the size of his own just so he could keep the view of the sea. 

Jaime let out an exasperated sigh and his head hit the desk with a dense thud, Brienne glanced at him  questioningly.

“Brienne, I have no idea what half of this is. I don't do paperwork, I charm people.”

“You're not looking very charming right now.” She told him teasingly. “You look like a man child. Anyway, I don't understand all of this either, I've looked at security though as you asked and I have to say that Roose Bolton actually knows what he's doing. It could be better but it's certainly not lax.” Brienne paused for a second before adding. “His son is evil.” 

“You can say that again.” Jaime told her while lifting his head up and pushing his eyes back to the stack of paperwork. “I know you'll make security even better though, I have faith in you.”

Such simple words said without thinking but they made Brienne smile, everyone thought Jaime was at the beck and call of his sister but he was actually a very noble man at heart. 

“You'll get used to all this, Jaime.” She told him letting their eyes meet. “It'll just take a while to get used to. The stress-”

Whatever Brienne had planned on saying next got cut off abruptly by Cersei bursting into the office with a look of pure determination on her sharp but beautiful features. Brienne wanted to groan, in truth the only Lannister she liked was Jaime. Cersei's dagger like eyes glared at the taller woman and if looks could kill Brienne would have dropped down dead. 

“Get out!” She growled coming to a halt before her father's – well Jaime's – desk. “I want to talk to my brother.”

Jaime internally sighed,  _why can't she be nice for five minutes?_ He could sense Brienne's discomfort. 

“Sister, please be polite to Brienne. She's done a lot to help me, _us,_ and she is my friend.” 

The taller blonde was thankful for her friend's input but the lioness would never be civil towards her, still Jaime's attempt was what counted. 

“I'm sure it is _all out the goodness of her heart_.”  Cersei sneered in a tone that said _he'll never fuck you._

Jaime sighed again, it seemed like that was all he'd done since returning to Lion and Stag again and most of it  had been caused by his sister. 

“Brienne?” She turned to face him in the chair. “Would you mind please?” 

“Of course not, I've been meaning to walk the lower floors again anyway.” 

The lioness glowered at the security expert until Brienne finally slipped out the large glass door before turning back to her brother. Rich rays of sunlight burst in via the large window causing her long curled hair to glow almost as though she wore a crown and made her deep red dress shimmer, if she didn't scowl so much the woman would have been very beautiful. 

“Have you fucked that lumberjack yet?” Cersei demanded. “Because I really thought you had better taste.” 

“Cersei!” 

The tone was warning, something he'd picked up from father and Jaime was pleased to find it still worked on her. 

“Fine. She's your hulk not mine. I just thought you-”

“What do you want, sister?” He asked cutting her insults off. “Or did you just want to insult Brienne?” 

“No there was a reason. I've decided that I'm taking over Joffrey's position as Vice President since you're now CEO.” 

“Father-”

“Father is _dead_!” She screamed. “He didn't let me have a part in the company just had me take care of the girls he trafficked. I'm Vice President of Lion and Stag Enterprises and I'll be taking over the _other_ business too since you have no interest in it. This company is ours now.” 

Jaime loved his sister but he wasn't stupid, he knew that by  _ours_ she really meant  _mine._ Cersei had never really been very good at sharing. He opened his mouth to speak but the blonde woman cut him off once more. 

“I wasn't asking your permission, Jaime. I essentially did the job for Joffrey anyway so I know what I'm doing. I _am_ Lion and Stag's new Vice President, I came in here to tell you that not negotiate for it.” 

Jaime couldn't argue, she had been doing the job for years since Joffrey didn't care and the company couldn't go on without one. 

“Alright.” He eventually told her. 

“Good. First thing I want is Pycelle gone, he's old and I'm sick of his moaning.”

“Cersei, let's not be hasty.” He couldn't afford his sister jumping the gun again, _look what happened to Ned Stark and his family last time._ “I'm going to go over all of father's paperwork with the aid of Baelish and Pycelle after that we'll deal with personnel.” 

Cersei seemed to understand his caution and thankfully relented. 

“Okay, just make it quick because I want Pycelle _gone._ After that I want us to fire Baelish as well. That bastard Littlefinger always wanted this company and now that father's gone he may stand a chance of getting it, I'm not having that.” 

“You know better than anyone we can't fire Petyr Baelish, and before you suggest it  _no_ we can't just kill him. Baelish has far too many contingency plans and at the moment he is the only thing keeping this company under control.” 

“Then put a leash on him.” Cersei snarled. With that she turned to leave but halted half way to the door. “Will you be joining myself, Tommen and Myrcella for lunch? Or would you rather spend it with your friend _king kong_?” 

The only thought to pass through Jaime's mind was _this is going to be one hell of a long day. _

 

XXXX

 

It was early evening and the sun had only just set leaving its warmth lingering in the air, burnt oranges and delicate pinks still clung to the horizon and not a single cloud littered the sky. Pe tyr had promised his beautiful young wolf prawn linguine for dinner since it had quickly become her favourite along with lemon cakes,  since it was warm he'd told her they'd have strawberries for dessert as well.  That was how the Cleaner found himself in the store with Sansa by his side holding Tristan, she was clearly nervous but he didn't think it was good for her to never leave the house except to go to his brothel. 

The store aisles were cold but in a refreshing way that relaxed the muscles and with the heat of summer outside it was much needed. The prawns had been freshly caught that morning and Sansa watched as he set them in the cart, she didn't like being around so many people. At Lion and Stag or his club she could hide in Petyr's office but in the store there was nowhere to run and that lead to her just holding onto Tristan in search of comfort; she'd let the raven haired child hold Copper to give her even more comfort. It wasn't so much crowds she had a problem with it was the individuals in the crowds. Sansa found herself ever so thankful to her Master who was patient with her and went round the store at a meander rather than his normal _get what I need and leave_ speed. 

Just when Sansa had managed to relax they reached the line to pay, normally there wasn't one but with it being hot people were probably stocking up on ice cream and shit they didn't really need. After a few moments of standing there waiting and old woman joined the line behind them. For a moment Sansa felt boxed in but after a couple of deep breaths she managed to silence her surge of panic, just having her Master there beside her helped,  she even smiled a little when he pulled a pack of gum from the shelf behind her and threw it in with everything else; he always smelt and tasted of mint. 

“Damn it.” He suddenly said braking the quietude. “I forgot your strawberries.”

“I... I'll get them, I know where they are.” 

Petyr raised a surprised eyebrow at that, she'd been nervous the entire time she'd spent in the store and yet wanted to go off on her own to get strawberries. Half of her reasoning was that she wanted to be brave while the other half came from wanting to please her Master. 

“You sure?”

If Sansa thought she could do it he wouldn't stop her, it would give her confidence.

“Yes, I can do it.”  _ I want to be brave,  _ most would think going to get something they'd forgotten was nothing but to Sansa it was a huge step. “ Would you hold him?” 

Petyr took the boy and watched as Sansa walked away out of sight, she was so determined and he was proud of his girl,  even though he could hear her counting each step separating them.  Sansa was dangerous and intelligent, the sooner she realised that the better.  Tristan clung to his father's chest like he usually did and started to doze off into sleep,  suddenly Petyr's attention was pulled away from the raven haired, blue eyed boy and down to the old woman behind him. 

“Your son is so very handsome.” She told him. “Hello Sweetheart.” 

The line was rather long and Petyr didn't want to stand there with the woman grumbling at him about how people were polite in her day and found himself flashing her a smile. No one could resist the Petyr Baelish trademark grin. 

“Yes, he is.” Came the flat response.

The old woman wore a lilac dress with a matching cardigan and black kitten heels but Petyr paid no attention to any of that. 

“What is this angel's name?” She asked with the sort of accent one could only get from Dorne. 

Petyr really didn't want to continue the conversation but he carried on just to avoid her moaning at him until he had paid. 

“His name is Tristan.” Surly this old woman could see the younger man didn't want to speak to her.

“Oh what a lovely name, it suits him. He looks like you too.” She continued to smile at his son. _I seriously doubt that,_ thought Petyr with a huff. “And what is your daughter's name?” 

“What?”

Petyr was genuinely confused but lost all interest in the old woman when Sansa returned and set down the box of fresh strawberries with a soft smile, his heart surged with pride. Suddenly the lilac coated woman's question clicked in his head,  _ she thinks Sansa's my daughter,  _ that made him grin smugly and the CFO decided to see what sort of a response he could get from the aged woman from Dorne. 

“Thank you, Sweetling.” Sansa seemed pleased with herself. “Here, hold _our_ son.”

Sansa took Tristan and accepted the gentle press of her Master's lips, over her shoulder Petyr watched as the woman's eyes widened in shock and he could practically hear her thoughts.  _She's too young for him! She's a teenager! And that_ _baby boy, how old was she?_ Petyr stifled a laugh and carried on with his evening. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short but I split a chapter in half because it was so long. The next half is longer. Also, the shopping scene was something I thought of at work a few days ago and it amused, hence the chapter split.


	31. Burn My Mark

Petyr had been working peacefully in his office for most of the morning, he'd gotten to work before the sun came up and had quickly started typing and going over the inner workings of Lion and Stag Enterprises before everyone else showed up; he worked best when there wasn't twenty people moving around outside his office door. When Gwendolyn had arrived she'd brought him a cup of coffee and soon after she brought his mail too, she'd cut her hair over the weekend he noticed, it now cuddled her face in a bob; _I like your hair it suits you._ Petyr was actually entirely indifferent about her new haircut but he complemented her anyway and it had made her smile, _always complement your assistant,_ he thought, _keeps them loyal and happy._ Gwendolyn was like his own personal Varys, she knew everything that went on in the office but unlike his bald co-worker she told him without even knowing it. Petyr knew Hannah, Twyin's assistant until his death, was having sex with Amatus from legal; had been for some time, of course his wife didn't know that. Myranda from reception had become Ramsay's new sadistic plaything, Vincentas Lowe in accounting had drug addiction while Yannick Moyer in the mail room had developed a gambling ptoblem as of late. There were so many people hiding who they were at Lion and Stag; Hannah, Amatus, Myranda, Vincentas and Yannick were just the tip of the iceberg.

The clock had just struck noon when the Cleaner's silence was broken by Gwendolyn's voice drifting through the little silver intercom box.

“ _Mister Baelish,_ _Jaime_ _Lannister is here to see you_.”

Petyr leaned over his desk and pushed the little black button quickly.

“Send him in.”

Any other Lannister would have just barged in but not Jaime, he was polite most of the time. Tyrion was the only noble lion there was no matter how much he denied it, but that didn't mean Jaime didn't try and aspire to be better; that was noble in itself.

“Baelish, I need to speak to you.” Said the blonde man as soon as Petyr's office door was closed behind him.

The Lannister wore black slacks and a white shirt under his usual dark reddish brown leather jacket, he'd never been one for suit jackets and ties.

“I assumed, otherwise you're in the wrong office.” Finally Petyr looked up to meet the taller man's eyes.

Jaime brushed the CFO's sarcasm off and got back to the point after running a hand through his hair.

“Now that Father is gone we will be making a few changes to the staff-” Baelish cut him off.

“No, Cersei is making changes to the staff.” Petyr grinned. “Shall I start packing my bags?”

The dark-haired man nearly laughed at that, they'd never be able to get rid of him especially now that Tywin was gone.

“You're safe for now.” Jaime flashed him a charming smirk. “It's Pycelle, he's stuck in the past. It's time he left.”

“By _stuck in the past_ do you mean he knows too much about the _other_ business Tywin loved so much? Pycelle does have a hard time keeping his mouth shut. I'm strprised he's stayed quiet this long.”

“Got it in one.” Jaime sighed, he wasn't cut out for running Lion and Stag no matter how much he lied to himself. “I haven't told Cersei yet but Father's side line is going to crash, without him no one wants to sell to us anymore. I don't blame them and I'm actually glad.”

There was silence for a second while Petyr leaned back in his chair and the Lannister stared off into space thinking of Gods only knew what.

“You and Tyrion never liked your father's secondary trade.” It wasn't a question. “It was Tywin's world and Cersei wanted to inherit it all, Joffrey as well.”

The blonde pushed thoughts of his son away.

“When it goes under - because it will go under - I want you to make sure none of it comes back to bite us. Cersei will ask you to fix it, to bring it back, please don't.”

“Already on it, and Cersei can't make me do something I don't want to do. As for Pycelle do you want him; fired, forced to take retirement or dead?” Petyr asked with no more emotion than if he were asking Jaime what he thought about the weather. “Your choice.”

“Retirement. There's been too much death around her and it's starting to gain attention from the press and police.” Petyr couldn't argue with that. “I'll have Varys look into having him replaced.”

“It will be nice to finally get rid of that blithering idiot, but if it's retirement surly you should do it? You're CEO, or maybe Varys what with HR being his department.”

“But you are still acting CEO, if I don't have to talk to Pycelle I won't.”

_Ah, make me do the tasks you don't want._

“I'd rather kill him, but I see your point. There has been more death in this company in the last year than in the last decade. Stannis had a heart attack.” _Tywin had me poison him._ “Renley died in that gay bar shooting.” _That one actually wasn't me or the Lannisters._ “I hoped everything was done with Robert's accident.” _Maybe Jaime doesn't know about Stannis but he can't be so_ _naïve_ _when it comes to Robert._ “With this company there will always be death. If something or someone got in your father's way he would have me clean it up, now your sister will seek the same. Though there will be less now the girls, drugs and guns are gone.” 

“I never liked the girls.” Came the blonde's quick response. “Some of them are Myrcella's age or younger.” 

“People think differently when it's their daughter.” 

“Yeah.” Muttered the blonde completely unaware of what he'd just admitted to. Suddenly his mind snapped back. “Deal with Pycelle.” 

The Lannister was gone just seconds later shutting the door behind him rather than slamming it, leaving Baelish in peace. Staff was Varys' job but Varys took his time while Petyr worked quicker and more precise; like a scalpel.  _If you want to know a secret go to Varys, he'll tell you for a price. If you want something doing then come to me, I'll fuck you over and take it for myself._

Pycelle was old and should have retired years ago, however he did know what he was doing when it came to illegal operations. Yet, if Jaime intended to let the illegal business fall apart then Pycelle had just become obsolete and Petyr would take great pleasure in getting rid of him.  Jaime didn't seem to have death in mind for Pycelle but once he was gone and a few months had passed by Cersei would see to it, she wouldn't use Baelish though, no, she'd have a little heart attack planned for him like the Lannisters had arranged for Stannis Baratheon all those years ago. There was no way Cersei would let the old twat talk. If she didn't Petyr would, he was so very close to having utter control of Lion and Stag, he wouldn't let Pycelle fuck it up.  The plan he'd worked years on would not go up in flames because of that old idiot. 

Petyr set aside  the finances he'd been working on for most of the day and set to print out everything he needed to legally force Pycelle into retirement.  It didn't take long and soon enough he had all he needed,  Baelish did a double check in his head and then  went to his assistants desk. 

“Gwendolyn, you can go home once I come back.”

“But it's early, sir.” She seemed confused.

“I know but it is your son's birthday.” He didn't overly care about that but he really needed his assistant on side for the last leg of taking the company.

“You remembered.” Gwendolyn smiled up at him, beamed was probably a better word. 

“I did, and I'll be back."

He didn't wait for her to say anything else Petyr just wandered the halls towards the CLO's office. It didn't take him more than a minute to get there and he found the old idiot's assistant sat at her desk looking rather depressed; anyone who spent an extended period of time with Pycelle was.  Baelish didn't speak to her, didn't look at her, he just pushed the office door open and went inside.  The white haired man with a beard that looked as though it belonged in the dark ages sat writing some kind of letter,  the CFO didn't care about that though he just walked straight up to Pycelle's desk and slammed the form down before him. 

“Sign it.” Was all Petyr said.

Pycelle's aged eyes scanned over the paper but he already knew what it said, he'd seen so many forms like the one before him in his time.

“Retirement? But-” Petyr cut him off with a raised hand.

“You've served this company for many years. Everyone hits their stride... unfortunately you hit yours fifty years ago.” Petyr allowed a smug grin to coat his features. “This isn't my idea, Jaime decided this and retirement is more than reasonable.”

“You mean Cersei decided.” Pycelle growled. “The bitch.”

Petyr raised an amused eyebrow.

“Yes, now sign and leave with your dignity or what's left of it.”

“Or what?”

The older man tried to sound strong but Petyr was hard to spook. Smugness erupted on his face and Petyr fell into his sarcastic Littlefinger persona.

“Are you suggesting I'd hurt you?” He asked with false incredulity, a hand resting on his chest in fake outrage. “Pycelle I'm utterly shocked. No, no, no I'd never hurt you.” Sarcasm practically dripped from him.

“Fuck you Baelish!”

“I'm good thanks.” Petyr had endured enough of Pycelle. “Sign.”

Pycelle wasn't entirely stupid, he knew just how dangerous Baelish really was and he wouldn't anger him when there was no one to run and hide with. Reluctantly Pycelle signed the form.

“This is a mistake, Baelish. You know the stort of law I deal with, what I do for Lion and Stag. You need me-”

“Well, now you can slow down and spend more time putting your feet up in my brothel. In fact, since I'm such a nice person, I'll let you have Ros free for an hour. Would that easy your gaping wounds?”

The old man raised an eyebrow of interest and was a little worried that Baelish would hear his heart thumping around his ribcage.

“It might.”

Petyr laughed.

“Good. I'll have Ros wet, ready and waiting for you. Bye now.”

The younger man didn't wait for a response, he just picked up the signed form with still wet ink and left to go back to his own office. The fifty-first floor of Lion and Stag was abuzz with the motions of the day, people going this way and that, off to photocopy something or fetch coffee for their boss'.

When Petyr reached his office door he found Gwendolyn had finished typing up his letters, had packed away her things and her bag sat on the desk before her.

“Thank you Gwendolyn. You can go now.”

The Cleaner made to re-enter his office and return to work but found himself coming to a halt in the doorway when his blonde assistant began to speak.

“Em, Sir?” Petyr turned to face her and watched as she pulled a sky blue bag from under her desk. “I got this for you, well, your son.”

That got Petyr's attention and he calmly took the blue bag from her, there was white tissue paper hiding whatever was inside.

“The girls normally have a baby shower but no one knew about your son so I just got him a little something.” She continued. “I hope Tristan will like it.”

Petyr didn't much care for this sort of thing but he still needed Gwendolyn on his side, couldn't have her telling anyone anything about what he did, his routines. That was why Baelish put on a content smile and opened the present, inside was a white bear with a red plaid bow.

“That's very kind, thank you Gwendolyn. I'm sure my son will love it.”

“I really hope he does. Bye, Mister Baelish.”

He watched as Gwendolyn vanished off towards the elevators while thinking about his hatred for work colliding with his personal life, he knew she was just trying to be nice but that didn't make it any less annoying.

 

XXXX

 

The room was red like the blood Ramsay always insisted on forcing Reek to shed, everything remained silent in the sound proofed basement and Reek didn't dare break that. Reek had been chained to a black St Andrew's cross in the far corner of the room with Ramsay stood shirtless behind him with a whip in hand for a good half an hour. The dark-haired sadistic man had been angry ever since he got home from Lion and Stag, the former heir to Iron Isle Shipping had no idea why but it seemed to be his fault anyway. The long whip slapped down against Reek's naked form, sometimes the back, sometimes his ass or thighs, everything hurt and the bruised slave couldn't tell where they struck anymore.

“I've had enough Reek!” The whip _smacked_ down again. “I really have.” _Smack._ “That little slut is mine and Baelish is playing happy-fucking-families with her.” _Smack._ “I won her!”

There was one last loud slap that echoed off the walls and then Ramsay finally set the whip aside and let Reek breath for a moment or two, the slaves heart surged with panic again at the sound of Ramsay's belt clicking open and his black pants falling to the floor; Ramsay was never gentle.

“At the end of the week father wants me to go with him to the cabin so we can hunt.” Whimpers of pain leaked from Reek's lips as his Master forced his way into his exhausted body. He could feel warm blood start to drip down his thighs. “I'll take you _and_ the bitch with me. I've had enough waiting and watching. And when she's mine I'll fuck her, you can watch.” Ramsay's thrusts were fast, sharp and painful. “Would you like that?” The man formerly known as Theon pulled at his bonds but it was no use. “You can pretend it's you filling her with your cock. I'll fuck her fast for you.”

Ramsay's thrusts grew faster and faster as his climax approached and the drips of blood along Reek's thighs turned to a gentle stream.

“If you're good...” Ramsay let out a deep moan. “... when I'm done with her I'll fuck you too. Only if you're good though.”

Suddenly Ramsay came pulling painfully on Reeks long brown-red curls and the slave desperately tried not to cry. All his dignity was long gone, his manhood, even his personality was fading.

“I'm going to have to get a second St Andrew's cross aren't I?” Ramsay asked rhetorically before pulling out of his slave. “You two can't share, I could whip you both at the same time. Ooh what a work out!” He grinned maniacally.

 

There was silence for a long time while Ramsay wiped away himself of Reeks cherry red blood, the slave tried to breath and banish what had just happened from his mind but it was futile, those horrors would never leave him.

“Reek...” Ramsay almost sang the word.

“Yes, Master,” He managed to reply.

“I gave you a new name, do you like it? _Reek_.”

Reek audibly gulped and his Master just found it amusing, Ramsay wasn't looking at him and paid little attention and instead decided to scroll through his phone. He sadistic Bolton still wanted an answer though and his pet knew it.

“Yes, Master.” _No! No, you crazy fucker! Of course not!_

“Good.” Came the quick answer. “Do you think my new plaything would like a new name? Joffrey called her _Pet_ but I'm thinking of calling her _Red_ on account of all that long pullable hair, but I'm sure a name will present itself. My Mother always told me not to name my dogs until I knew their personality.” Ramsay reached for a knife and set it down in the hot coals he always kept burning in a dark pit that called the centre of the room home. “Now, I'm going to need you to hold still so I can burn my mark into you. I want to practice for the whore, and if you make me fuck this up I'll cover it in salt.”

There was no meaning to those words, Ramsay would salt it anyway. _You sadistic fuck,_ thought Theon. He refused to loose his mind, he'd get back to his father and sister.

He would.


	32. A Nice Warm Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's Christmas I'm posting today and giving you guys TWO chapters as a little gift from me to you. The second will be added first thing xmas morning.

When Petyr pulled into the driveway and silenced his Aston Martin DB5's engine all he wanted to do was kiss Sansa and go to bed. With Lion and Stag's audit coming up the accounts department had been working overtime and everything had to go through Petyr to be verified, Olyvar and Ros had been running the club for him and with Pycelle now gone Baelish would have to go over legal as well to make sure the old idiot hadn't filed the illegal activities at the company. It was safe to say that Petyr was utterly exhausted but that hadn’t stopped him sitting in the driveway for a good fifteen minutes thinking about how to remain on top of the situation.

Finally he stepped into the house leaving behind the cold air but came to an abrupt halt upon seeing his girl stood by the door, a glass of whiskey in one hand with Petyr's cigarettes and lighter in the other. Petyr dropped the sky blue bag Gwendolyn had given him to his feet.

“Oh Sweetling, you are perfect.”

Sansa grinned as her Master shut the door behind him then took the cigarettes and quickly lit one, shoving the lighter into his pocket. After a few deep breaths of nicotine he took the glass and indulged in a large gulp.

“Better, Master?” The redhead asked with a light tone.

“Yes. Much better, thank you Sweetling.” Sansa seemed pleased at that, she'd made her Master happy.

“You've been sitting in your car for a while, which means you're stressed.” _Clever girl._ “I already put Tristan to bed.”

The mention of their adopted son flashed his mind back to the bag he'd dropped, Petyr bent to pick it up with the hand that held his cigarette and passed it to Sansa.

“This is for him.”

The man with stormy eyes and grey at his temples took a drag as he watched her push white tissue paper out the way revealing the bear. Her azure eyes lit up though her Master never saw it, never would, and the apples of her cheeks rose in a delicate smile.

“Thank you Master, it's wonderful.”

“Don't thank me.” Said Petyr taking another long sip of whiskey. “It's from my assistant, Gwendolyn.”

Sansa seemed a little surprised at that, she wasn't used to strangers being in any way nice to her or Tristan but she recovered quickly.

“Will you thank her for me?” Her tone was a tad curious.

“Sure.” He replied readily. “Now on a different note, I'm not cooking because it's late and I can't be bothered. Do you want left over lasagne?”

“I'm not hungry.” Sansa looked down to her stomach. “And I'm getting fat.”

Petyr chuckled at that.

“You're not fat, Sweetling. You're healthy, it took all year, but you are.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “And good because I'm not hungry either.”

The Cleaner took a drag of his cigarette and felt his body relax as the drug filled his lungs, when he released the smoke it was in a perfect ring that Sansa couldn't help watching.

“Why...” She cut herself off and just looked back down to the bear.

“What is it?” Moss colored eyes travelled over his girl's pale face. “You know you can tell me anything. Ask me anything.”

She didn't need to be afraid of Petyr, he had appointed himself her protector. Sansa was the one person who would never suffer the damage of Littlefinger.

“Why do you smoke? It's not like what old Ma-Joffrey smoked.” The redhead knew her Master didn’t like being associated with Joffrey. “That smelt horrible.”

Sansa pulled a face of disgust remembering the foul stench of the blonde's bedroom on weekends, a mix of drugs, beer, junk food and rape. Petyr watched the way her nose crinkled and thought it adorable but the memories that haunted her were not lost on him.

“I smoke because I'm addicted, which is a result of stress at a young age and because teens want to look cool.” Petyr told her calmly before wrapping his lips back around his half gone cigarette.

“Can I try?”

Baelish raised an eyebrow at her question since he'd not expected it, she'd never shown any interest in smoking before and he knew that she didn't really like the smell, that was why he'd taken to smoking on his patio rather than in the house. What he didn't know was that Sansa actually rather enjoyed the taste of whiskey and smoke on his tongue when they kissed. His girl wasn't a child though and if she wanted to try it he wouldn't stop her.

“Alright, here you go.”

He handed over the almost gone cigarette and watched as she brought it up to her lips with eager anticipation. As soon as she drew in the smoke it burnt her lungs and throat causing his angel to cough, she would have dropped the cigarette had he not been prepared and taken it back with a light hearted laugh; a laugh that actually reached his eyes.

“I don't think smoking is for you, Sweetling.” Sansa got her breath back. “What do you say we take a shower and then bed?”

“To.. together?”

“Yes, Sweetling. I've never had you in the shower. Go upstairs and get the water running, have your clothes off by the time I get up there.”

“Okay, Master.”

Sansa felt no fear about him touching her, taking her clothes off for him or the act of sex anymore because it was sex and not rape. Somehow she'd managed to build some kind of mental wall between the two and Petyr was proud of her for it; _just goes to show how strong she really is._ Sometimes Baelish wondered if he should phrase things differently rather than letting them be easily interpreted as orders but the commands made his ego happy. However, he didn't need to worry because Sansa didn't seem to do as he asked out of fear for the consequences but because it was _him_ asking her; because she wanted to. 

Petyr finally finished his cigarette as Sansa padded up the stairs with her bare feet letting the bear hand from her left hand and he stubbed it out in the ashtray that sat on a small table by the door. With one hand he started to open the buttons of his shirt while the other tipped the last of the amber liquid into his mouth before the glass found itself almost thrown at the table with his Mockingbird statue on it, leather clad feet carried him up the stairs and as he approached the master bedroom the sound of running water filled his ears. Petyr looked down the hallway just in time to see Lady's tale vanishing into Tristan's bedroom, that dog always kept an eye on the boy.

Inside his room he found Sansa naked as the day she was born just like he'd told her to be and his body twitched in arousal, she was so beautiful, he almost growled as he kicked off his shoes. His red-haired girl walked over to him and started to rid him of his bespoke clothing like it was some kind of sin to ware clothes. He wanted to see her cerulean eyes but forcing her would spoil the mood, she'd give him eye contact when she was ready, that was a thought for another day though, tonight was just to be about him, her and that hot shower.

He pulled her into the shower and moaned in delight when the water tumbled over her nipples, soaping up a wash cloth he ran it over her delicate thighs in teasing circles that he knew she loved. She'd come so far and that made the experience of having her all the more special, no one had ever heard moans of sexual delight from her but him. Only him, and only he ever would. Soon enough all thoughts of actually getting clean had vanished from Petyr's brain and he just wanted her, the wash cloth fell to the floor in favour of his piano like fingers slipping into her wet heat; his girl moaned.

“That's my baby girl.”

His lips found her nipples and showered them with attention until she had to grip onto him to avoid her legs giving way. She was only just shorter than him without shoes and Petyr found that was the perfect height to kiss her at, she tasted sweet as usual but there was a backdrop of smoke on her tongue too that made him grin; she was his and now she tasted like it too. Her moans grew in volume until he covered her mouth with his, swallowing them down until she came from nothing but his fingers.

“Master!”

Oh how his ego liked that, it wasn't enough though, he needed to be inside her, needed to feel her panting into his neck. That was how he found himself pressing her into the cold tiles and picking her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, maybe not the safest position what with all the water but who the fuck cared at that point? Her nails dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave little bruises that Petyr would adore and her body had flushed the color of her hair. He kissed his girl deeper sliding his tongue into her mouth while lining himself up with her entrance, Sansa was right, she was getting a little chubby around the middle but that was a sign of a good diet rather than being fat like she feared. With another deep kiss he filled her to the hilt and halted to let his angel adjust, her eyes fluttered shut and he gulped down another of her intoxicating moans. Her body was tight, wet and inviting, everything Petyr couldn't resist; not that he tried very hard.

“Please move.” She begged.

He was proud that she'd grown enough confidence to ask that of him, to enjoy having him inside her but that wasn't what Baelish was thinking about as he pulled almost all the way out and slammed back into his Sansa.

“Master.” The word was breathless.

Petyr felt his hard member twitch and throb at that one simple word, her tone dripping in honey. His thumb circled her sex pushing her slowly closer and closer towards the edge. The redhead let out a loud whimper and she didn't care is anyone heard her, which was highly unlikely since her Master's house was pretty much in the middle of nowhere.

“That's my Sweetling.”

Sansa gripped his shoulders so forcefully that she was sure he'd be bleeding by the time they were done, then again Sansa's brain didn't much care at that point in time. She felt her blood boil and her body vibrate, his breath ghosted over her pale skin teasing her nerve endings while water dripped over her heated skin. His other large hand slipped up to cup her breast and another moan tumbled from her lips, in seconds he had the nipple standing to attention. Sansa arched into his touch and Petyr had to quickly shuffle his feet to avoid them both crashing to the wet floor.

His breath came shallow and fast as he watched the muscles of Sansa's stomach twitch and contract, her body showing just how desperate for more it was when her hips settled into a hard determined grind against his own. Her climax came into sight and Sansa knew the cliff she stood on was slippery and there was nothing to cling onto save for her lover's strong shoulders. His torment didn't let up, hips thrusting desperatly against hers, rhythm falling apart as pure need took over. Suddenly the eruption happened and Sansa fell of the edge of the cliff and plunged into the euphoric waters below.

“Master!”

She screamed as she came for a second time and her Master wasn't far behind, two more thrust and he came hard, his face resting against her neck with her name on his lips. They just stood there for a time while they got their breath back, bodies still connected and trembling in utter bliss. When Baelish's arms couldn't support his girl any longer he set her softly on the ground, the sound of running water still filled their ears and Sansa managed to pull her arms bag and start to actually wash herself. Petyr watched her for a moment and then did the same. When Sansa was done she kissed her Master and stepped out into the bathroom, Petyr watched her though the frosted glass while she dried her hair. The water shut off just as Sansa finished drying off and he stepped out wrapping a fluffy white towel around his slender waist, his redhead muttered something about checking on Tristan and left the room.

Petyr towelled his dark hair until dry but didn't bother combing it, his hair was always a mess in the mornings no matter what he did. Going into his large bedroom decorated rich silver-grey and hand carved furniture, from his dresser he pulled a pair of navy sleep pants and slid them on quickly before hanging the now wet towel up to dry. When he returned from the bathroom once more Sansa sat in their bed waiting for him, he liked that it was now _their_ bed and thinking about it she'd not slept in her own bed for a good few months. Petyr climbed into his side of the bed and pulled the redhead to him, pressing her back to his chest. In the dark and peaceful quiet the two found sleep. 

 

XXXX

 

After days of avid thought the CFO finally came up with a way of getting Cersei Lannister  out of  _his_ company and also make her suffer for all she'd put Sansa through,  without killing her. There had been too much death around Lion and Stag as of late and it was starting to get suspicious not only to reporters but to the police; Petyr had enough to deal with without them getting involved. No, Cersei had to live but her life would be like that of Kaegan Irelan, full of misery. Now Pycelle was in forced retirement he had to work quickly to shut Tywin's illegal activities down just like Jaime wanted, it wouldn't benefit Petyr so he'd shut it down though it would anger the lioness. Pycelle could be dealt with later but with his plan entering its final stage Cersei took precedence.  The beautiful lioness was the last obstacle in his path while Jaime was the finish line. 

Everyone knew Cersei was volatile and acted on impulse more than anything else, he needed to have her  _blow up_ and pretty publicly to have the desired effect, after all that had happened it would be blamed on stress. The drug he'd chosen would fade from her system before anyone could test her and if all went to plan she'd be taken to a mental health facility for twenty-four hour watch, since there were only two in the imitate area it hadn't taken long for Petyr to get a man in each one; well one was a woman. Cersei would be hopped up at regular intervals and no one would be any the wiser, money could buy even the most noble man if there was enough of it. The issue was getting the first dose into her without her or anyone else noticing. 

Petyr had some more thinking to do.


	33. The Lioness Falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter two, Merry Christmas!

 

Drugging Cersei Lannister proved to be far harder than Petyr had first believed, he needed Cersei to react publicly rather than at Lion and Stag; if it happened there Jaime would easily cover it up. If it was to be his company Baelish needed the lioness on the front page; _there is such a thing as bad publicity._ In the end Petyr decided her favourite restaurant would be the best bet, most of the staff there already hated her and finding a waiter willing to do the deed was surprisingly easy; seemed they really hated the female Lannister.

Claudio was the name of said waiter, had brought Cersei her normal glass of champagne on Tuesday evening – the day reserved for Jaime and his sister to have dinner together every week – and waited for her to drink it down which hadn't taken long; the woman with golden hair could drink like a fish and swear like a sailor. She'd been happily enjoying her meal with Jaime talking about everything from Lion and Stag to the children they shared, Tommen and Myrcella wanted to visit Dorne but the lioness had no intention of letting them. Jaime felt sorry for those children some times, Cersei could be over protective to the point of suffocating them. Maybe he could convince his sister to let Tommen and Myrcella take the trip, if she'd give in to anyone it would be her brother.

Jaime had opened his mouth to say just that to Cersei but the words dies on his tongue when a dimwitted waiter crashed into her almost covering his sister with the tray of pasta he was carrying.

"What is wrong with you! Moron!" She screamed pulling the attention of everyone around her.

"I'm so sorry, Madam." Said the brunette waiter, apologising profusely.

No one noticed him pull the empty champagne glass from the table.

"It's alright." Jaime told him trying to calm the situation before Cersei gutted the poor man.

Claudio fled as quickly as possible and threw the glass into the dumper out back before anyone saw anything, knowing she'd soon reach for her champagne he raced through the kitchen, got a new champagne flute and filled it. Nervous feet carried him back to the Lannister table.

"My apologies, Madam." He told her politely. "Another glass of Louis Roederer cristal for you."

Cersei grabbed the glass and glared at Claudio until the brunette backed away from the table, she was getting confrontational – more than usual – and he suspected the drug was kicking in. Jaime uttered a _thank you_ as Claudio left but it was clear from his tone and his blue eyes that he was more focused on his sister, something wasn't right with her.

XXXX

Petyr sat in his office at Lion and Stag reading his newspaper and gloating about his success with the Vice President, Claudio had reported back to him by proxy and it seemed the drug had worked wonders on her, the paper had a photograph of the restaurant with an ambulance outside and Petyr wished he could have been there. The paper had no mention of Lion and Stag Enterprises beyond the obvious _Cersei Lannister is the current VP for..._ and _the company has suffered many losses in the last year._ Nothing that in anyway tarnished Lion and Stag's reputation further, all in all it was a job well done and Petyr could move on with his final phase. Petyr would pay his inside woman to sporadically drug Cersei keeping her in a major depressive episode and soon enough the insomnia would kick in leaving her mind to dwell on the horrors she'd caused his girl, the Cleaner grinned like the Cheshire cat.

Suddenly there was a knock at his door and Petyr was forced to school his expression, he called out for whomever it was to come in and Gwendolyn quickly appeared at his desk, he folded the paper down just enough so he could see her over the top. She set his rather large stack of mail down while looking at the newspaper.

"Such a tragedy." She said with true emotion. "The stress must have gotten to her, poor thing."

"Yes, terrible." Came his rehearse reply.

"Can't blame her though, first her son and now her father. Jaime spends so much time travelling."

 _Oh where did I put my violin?_ Petyr leaned forwards and set the paper aside to finish later, Gwendolyn seemed off in her little word of concern for those around her but this was a multimillion dollar company not a grief counsellor meeting and he quickly put a stop to it.

"Could you have Hugo Jenrette come to my office please, Gwendolyn? I want to know what he's written on this report, it's utterly illegible."

"Yes Sir, of course."

Gwendolyn left shutting the door quietly behind herself and went to do as her boss had asked, meanwhile Petyr grinned and calmly muttered to himself wearing his Littlefinger mentality.

"Everything is going exactly as I planned."

Thanks to the recent _issues_ with Cersei her brother had been preoccupied leaving Petyr in control of the company and some of the lower staff were starting to grow used to it, things got sent directly to Baelish rather than it being sent to Jaime's office and forcing his assistant Hannah, the former assistant to Tywin, to ferry it about. Petyr already ran Lion and Stag, all that was left to do was make it legal. _A little longer and I'll have everything; Sansa, the CEO throne – but of course I'll have to change the name over time – and I even have Tristan._ Petyr loathed to admit it but he was starting to actually care for the boy. With thoughts of Sansa filling his mind, long red hair and pale skin like snow, he started to think about when he got home.

"I'll cook." He decided after only a few seconds. "Then bathe her, she seems to like that. And then I'll fuck her."

His ego grinned, and that was exactly what happened that night.

XXXX

At three o'clock Friday afternoon Baelish had found himself neck deep in finance reports for the first quarter, his grey-green eyes stung from having spent so long staring at the tiny numbers that coated each page but most days he was like that. His navy suit jacket had been banished to the back of his chair hours ago leaving him in only his matching slacks, waistcoat and black shirt, he didn't often ware a waistcoat but boy did he look good in one. It had been four hours since his last cigarette and only when the clock behind him on the shelf chimed did he realise that was how long had passed, he was just about to stand and take a much needed break when his office door opened revealing Varys who wore an unreadable face as usual. Their eyes met.

"Yes?"

"Jaime has just arrived, he wants to speak to all of us. Now."

No official meeting had been called but still Petyr pushed aside thoughts of a cigarette break and maybe getting more coffee in favour of following the CHRO along the dark red-gold halls to Jaime's office. As they entered stormy eyes saw Jaime and Brienne were already there along with the CTO, Athelstan Creed, and a few other executives. The CMO, Chief Marketing Officer, Hoyt Montgomery and Ulf Pellegrino the CNO or Chief Networking office – who had been after Baelish's job for as long as he could remember – chatted away to one another like not one could hear them.

Jaime looked drained, there were black circles under his eyes and though his hair was clean it hadn't been brushed. Petyr internally grinned, if that was how Jaime looked he could only imagine Cersei. Everyone's attention fell to the blonde CEO as he shuffled in his seat and opened his mouth to speak but as he did the door opened and the CSO, Roose Bolton and his son stepped inside. Jaime took a breath and went back to what he was trying to say.

"As you all know thanks to the newspapers, my sister suffered what can only be described as a breakdown caused by stress, I'm not really surprised. Anyway, after much thought and discussion with doctors I have decided it would be best for her to remain at the mental health facility for the foreseeable future so as she can recover."

"She can't have been happy about that." Said a deep voice belonging to Ulf Pellegrino.

"She wasn't, no." Jaime told the room truthfully. "Because of this she'll be stepping down as Vice President of the company. I think it was the new position of VP that pushed her over the edge."

Petyr chuckled to himself and Varys was the only one to notice though he didn't look at the CFO. _It could have been stress but I think it's more likely down to a well paid waiter, me and champagne._ If he'd been a teenager he'd have tagged his thoughts with _#SmugFace_. Petyr's amusement came to an abrupt end though when he felt eyes on him, it was a little unsettling and could have only been Ramsay Bolton; the Cleaner tried to push that aside for the time being. Jaime continued.

"With Cersei's departure we will once again be without an official VP and I will be doing all in my power to help my sister, meaning Baelish will remain in charge until I return although Brienne has kindly agreed to become acting Vice President for a short time." Everyone's eyes travelled to the only woman in the room then back to a sleep deprived Jaime. "She'll run everything she deems relevant through me."

Petyr could live with that for a while, Brienne would surly follow the Lannister when he got rid of him. She was no threat to him.

"Of course." Said Petyr with an unreadable expression. "I would be glad of the help."

Brienne offered him a light smile as though she believed his words; she didn't.

"Varys, with the amount of staff changes we've had recently the press is beginning to question our ability. Silence those rumours." The lion yawned.

"Very well. Shall I also begin a search for a new VP?" The bald man's voice was calm and to the point.

"Don't bother, Baelish and Brienne can cope for now. We'll deal with that when everything has calmed down."

Suddenly Athelstan Creed piped up and the room of executives tilted their heads to look at the old man.

"I'll have her removed from our system."

"Why?" The golden haired lion snapped without meaning to.

"If she's as stressed as you say..." He chose his words so carefully. "... then we don't want her accidentally letting anyone into our system, Sir." Athelstan regretted speaking now.

"Cersei wouldn't-"

He was quickly cut off by Brienne who rested a hand on his shoulder, Jaime slumped down into his chair.

"They're just trying to be cautious, Jaime. Leave Lion and Stag to Mister Baelish..." Petyr's lips upturned. "... and myself. You worry about Cersei."

"You're right, Brienne. Usually are." Everyone could hear him calm as he spoke, Brienne seemed to have a naturally soothing affect on him.

Petyr and Varys saw Athelstan Creed gearing up for another round of questioning and stupid sentences that Pycelle would have been proud of and put a stop to it. Petyr began to speak while Varys moved to stand in front of the CTO effectivly bannishing him from the conversation.

"Alright if there is nothing else I think we're done here. Do I need to remind you all that we're in the middle of an audit? Get back to work."

Reluctantly everyone obeyed the CFO soon to be CEO and filed out of the room back to their respective offices, everyone that was except Brienne who offered her friend a comforting smile. Petyr could see the love she had for Jaime but that information didn't aid him in that moment and so he ignored it, storing the knowledge away for later.

"Thank you, Mister Baelish." She told him without looking up.

"Of course." Petyr turned to leave but halted in the doorway and spoke with false concern. "I hope Cersei feels better soon."

Leaving the large office that Petyr would soon demolish he found the sadistic blue orbs of Ramsay Bolton staring back at him, the younger man had rested himself against the opposite wall from Jaime's office door with arms folded across his chest.

"Hi Baelish." Ramsay greeted in a villainous tone.

The CFO sighed, he didn't have time for Ramsay's crap.

"Is there something I can do for you, Ramsay?" He asked while turning to walk to his office, the younger man followed.

"I hear you have a niece, a pretty little thing according to Myranda." He grinned devilishly. "So what's her name?"

"Alayne."

Anyone who thought Joffrey was the worst man in the world clearly hadn't come across Ramsay- _fucking_ -Bolton.

" _Cute._ Didn't know you had a brother."

Petyr had no idea why Ramsay was suddenly asking a ton of questions but he had a few guesses and wouldn't fall out of character.

"I don't." The Cleaner told him stoically. "But I did have a sister. Now, can I get back to work or would you like to further question me on my family?" _Family?_ Ramsay thought bitterly. "Maybe you'd like to know my son's full name and his favourite food? It's Tristan Amyas Baelish and he loves strawberries just like his mother. Is that everything?"

"I guess." The younger man huffed.

Petyr carried on towards his office where he'd asked Gwendolyn to get him a cup of coffee leaving Ramsay stood in the hallway looking very out of place in his black button down and slacks, he looked more like bar staff than security. The man with blue eyes took a deep breath and got on the elevator headed down to security, his mind muttering to itself as he went. _Alayne, is that what he called you? I like it but you're mine and I'll pick your name._

Stepping off the elevator onto the ground floor he found the foyer almost completely empty save for Myranda who was on reception until she spotted him and raced over. Randa pressed her body close to his and donned a seductive smile, any other day it would have worked but Ramsay was too lost in his thoughts.

"Can we play tonight?" She laughed while biting her lip. "Take that slave of yours and set the dogs on him? It will be fun."

"No." He snarled in a deep and dominant tone.

"Why not?" Her question bordered on whining.

"I'm going with Father to his cabin remember? I did tell you."

"Tell him you got a better offer, it wouldn't be a lie. Or let me come with you."

Randa tiptoed so as she could kiss his cupids-bow lips, hoping Ramsay would fall for her seductions; he didn't.

"No." He growled out a second time. "I have things to do so you're going to have to play with yourself."

With that Ramsay brushed her arms off of himself and took large strides over to the security office, he was going to get his whore, _Alayne,_ and he was going to play with her until she was nothing but a pretty pile of ash.


	34. Come Play At The Cabin

The sky had turned stygian by the time Petyr gave in and couldn't take the sting in his eyes a second longer; he needed to leave, Gwendolyn and everyone else on the fifty-first floor as well as the rest of the building leaving him all alone, not that the Cleaner minded. As he shut his office door and started the short walk towards the mirrored elevators Petyr dialled the cellphone he'd gifted Sansa what felt like forever ago, she answered on the second ring; _that's my girl p_ _rompt as always._

“Hello, Master.” She sounded quieter than usual but her throat wasn't nearly as raw as when he'd left for work.

“Hi Sweetling.” He greeted in a deep voice. “I'm coming home but I still need to go to the club. Would you like to come with me or do you still feel ill?”

His darling girl had been feeling unwell for the last few days and nothing Petyr had tried seemed to help, she didn't seem to be actually _sick_ it was more like something stress related, but as far as he could tell she was perfectly content. All her Master could do was hope it passed otherwise he'd have to take her to the hospital and then she really would be stressed.

“I still don't feel better, Master.” She told him in a soft tone. “I want to go with you though.”

She'd been cooped up in the house for a while and Baelish reasoned that some fresh air would do her good. The elevator doors opened and Petyr stepped inside hitting the ground floor button.

“Alright, Sweetling.” He could hear her smile on the other end of the line and imagined her azure eyes growing just a little bit brighter. “If you're sure you are up to leaving the house I'll come and get you.”

“I am, Master.”

Silver doors slipped open to reveal the large marble and green foyer with a mamoth circular and very vacant reception desk in the centre of the room. Petyr quickly realised he wasn't alone, behind the black desk was a cleaner emptying the trash can of its measly contents while over my the security door stood the balding CSO and his son, Ramsay; Petyr ignored them as he usually did.

“I'll be back in about twenty minutes, then we'll go to my club.” He told his girl.

Sansa spoke again in that angelic voice he adored, something he thought was _bye Master_ but he couldn't be sure since Roose decided to talk over her while Petyr walked towards the exit. Both the CSO and Baelish were unaware of the younger Bolton locking away the snippet of information about Sansa's whereabouts deep in his sadistic mind.

“Night Baelish.”

Petyr glanced up to the two men after muttering his own _bye_ to the redhead then hung up and stuffing his cellphone back into his breast pocket.

“Bolton, Bolton junior.”

He said nothing more, wanting to get back to the red spark in his life rather than engaging in idle chit-chat with two men he despised. Roose nor Ramsay seemed to care though, they'd gone back to their little conversation which probably consisted of the daily running of the security department, it never changed much; at least not until Brienne had shown up with all her positive ideas. It was safe to say that the CSO had developed a serious dislike for the tall blonde however, Petyr was growing to enjoy the effect she had on them.

Stepping out into the night air filled him with relief, it was cold and refreshing with a sharp bite at the very end that reminded him how dangerous the world really was; a tiny hint that went unnoticed my most. His Aston Martin roared to life and soon enough Petyr was gliding along the open coastal road and closer to his Sweetling, the stars were out which was unusual so close to the city sparkling high up in the celestial heaven without a single cloud to block them out. He rolled the window down and quickly lit a cigarette blowing ash colored smoke out the car as it hurtled along. Cold salty sea air filled the car mixing with rich nicotine causing Petyr to smile, to him the scent of the ocean was freedom, music filled the air.

 _It started with a low light_  
Next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed  
And then they took my blood type  
It left a strange impression in my head  
You know that I was hoping  
That I could leave this star-crossed world behind  
But when they cut me open  
I guess that changed my mind  
And you know I might  
Have just flown too far from the floor this time  
'Cause they calling me by my name  
And the zipping white light beams  
Disregards the bombs and satellites

 

The man with moss colored eyes had been neglecting his club as of late, with his plan so close to success The Mockingbird had turned into an after thought, he couldn't leave it that way. He wouldn't let one business fall apart just because he was stealing another. If he left Oly and Ros fending for themselves any longer they'd think they had inherited the place, Olyvar would probably be able to handle it but Ros would grow overly conceited and end up getting herself killed.

Headlights illuminated his large house with beautiful rich red brickwork, the lights were on giving his home an almost supernatural glow, he silenced the Aston Martin's engine and quickly went inside. In Tristan's room was where he found his sweet little Sansa dressing their son, Petyr hadn't realised just how quickly babies grew until they'd taken in the raven haired boy. Looking over her shoulder he could see the child in black jeans and a sky blue t-shirt that she was in the middle of buttoning up. Baelish snaked his arms around her waist and breathed in her rich perfumed scent.

“How are you feeling, Sweetheart?” He asked with an air of concern.

“I'm alright, Master. It seemed to stop around midday.” Petyr felt her relax in his arms as she always did. “I'll hurry up with Tristan for you.”

“No rush, baby girl. I'm going to change.”

Petyr pressed a kiss to her cheek and then turned to leave but stopped in his tracks when Tristan started to giggle and reach for him.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

The CFO smiled before leaning down to face his boy.

“Yes, hello Tristan.” He kissed the child's forehead and left in search of clean clothes stepping around Lady as he went.

Sansa just stood there for a moment with a grin plastered across her pale face, he seemed completely unaware of how fatherly he'd become, all of it seemed to be absent-minded but Sansa didn't say anything about it though, she knew he'd just force himself to stop and hide his cards away again.

“Daddy may not admit it but he loves you.”

“Daddy!” Sansa laughed.

“Yes, he'll be back in a minute.”

XXXX

 

Outside the howls of cold wind hurtling through the tall trees could be heard, carrying the scent of freshness that man was never able to replicate through the streets. The sound was rich and almost as though each green leaf worked with its neighbour to create a symphony of utter perfection, better than any lullaby. Since entering The Mockingbird Tristan had found himself being cooed over by Mads, William, Jeremy, Azah and even Olyvar, Petyr worked away at his office desk ignoring them until he felt Sansa's tension become too much to bear.

“Will you people get back to what I pay you for.” Stormy eyes turned to Azah who wore her favourite orange dress over mocha skin. “Azah who is on the bar other than Katrina?”

The short woman brushed non-existence creases from her dress and pushed William out the way so as she could face her boss before answering him.

“Briony and Angelo are at the bar.”

Petyr instantly turned his head to Oly while Sansa pulled Tristan into her arms and subtly backed away from the little crowd that had formed.

“Olyvar.” The Cleaner began. “Rami Serratos will be at the club in a few hours and you know how much he loves Angelo. Don't let him cover the bar for the rest of the night, if you need someone that desperately have Kiba do it.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Good. Now get out.” The dark-haired man's voice was deep and dominant, the sort of tone that wasn't questioned in any way.

The group of people were quick to obey Petyr's command, Azah was first out the door followed quickly by Jeremy and William, Mads said something along the lines of _bye Alayne_ but no one could be sure thanks to the flood of loud music that poured in thanks to the open door. Once everyone was gone and Oly had shut the door leaving them in quiet peace, Sansa's shoulders managed to relaxed and her heartbeat slowed; gentle and calm. Her panic died. The CFO tipped back against his pitch black leather chair and cast his eyes around the room with a vacuous expression before locking onto Sansa, suddenly his face was anything but lacking in thought; deep high waisted burgundy skirt that stopped just above her knees, a long sleeved cream sweater with a scoop neckline, burgundy ballerina flats and a pair f thick black tights. _Perfect._ Perfect was the only word he had to describe his girl. Fire hair hung over one shoulder in a mermaid braid that Petyr had loving done for her, he'd never admit to googling that just so he would have an excuse to run his fingers through her long red locks. His hand came down on his knee gently patting it softly and silently calling her over to his side , she sat down in his lap and cuddled into his chest in search of warmth and comfort that she discovered quickly, Petyr never disappointed her. Strong arms circled around Sansa's waist making her feel safe and like she could accomplish anything, with a kiss to her milk white cheek his hand reached out for a glass that wasn't there.

“Would you like a drink, Master?” She asked dutifully with her arms still snaked around his neck. “I can get you one.”

Littlefinger shook his head.

“Nah, you don't have to Sweetling. Anyway, you have Tristan to watch.”

“He's asleep.” Was Sansa's quick response.

“It's crowded out there, I'll just have Katrina bring me one.”

“Master-” He cut her off

“Is this you trying to be brave like at the store when you went to get strawberries?”

Sansa grinned cautiously, he wanted her to be strong and she worked so hard to give him that, for him, for her.

“Yes.” She admitted and Petyr knew he had no choice but to give in.

“Alright, but get something for yourself.”

Sansa pressed a thankful kiss to her Master's cheek and pushed herself up, straightening out non-existence creases from her skirt before heading over to the large office door, Lady hopped down from her place on the couch intent on following her best friend but Sansa stopped the animal in her tracks.

“No Lady, dogs can't go in there.” Lady let out a whimper but accepted Sansa's words. “Take care of Tristan for me?”

The Wolfdog barked an affirmative finally letting Sansa leave the room to be brave, she'd push herself out of her comfort zone.

Petyr watched his girl leave with a lazy smirk on his face, a factory setting of his, then went back to his accounts. The Mockingbird always buzzed with activity but in recent months his club had only become more popular, surpassing even his expectations. Trixie had been on watch for a good month, seemed people were loosing interest in her and that had only continued; she'd be fired by the end of the night. Bobby, Neal, Daryl and Angelo had regulars that paid well. Mads, Jeremy and Dimitri were without a doubt the most popular of his male whores what with their muscular chests and chiselled features while Mhaegen , Marei and Danika seemed to be the months favoured girls. William, Kiba and Yuki got all the sugar daddy types thanks to their barely legal looks, Ros was his golden girl though and Petyr knew he'd got the perfect balance of whores.

After a while the Cleaner started to wonder where his baby girl had gotten to, she'd been gone a good five minutes and his bartenders should have been smart enough to serve her before anyone else no matter how long they'd been stood there, _what is taking her so long?_ Strong hands pushed Petyr up from his chair green-grey orbs glanced down to his son who was still sleeping peacefully before slipping out the door in search of Sansa.

His club was packed, that may have actually been an understatement, his whores were occupied as usual, Ros sat on Pycelle's ancient lap pretending she wasn't ready to kill herself from boredom. Athelstan Creed had an arm full of beautiful blonde Kiba and still wore the same suit as earlier that day at Lion and Stag so he'd been in the club for hours; none of that was important though. He couldn't see Sansa anywhere, people littered the full circumference of the bar but Petyr knew he'd have been able to spot that bold red hair no matter how many customers crowded his club. He knew her anywhere. Baelish's head swooshed every way imaginable in search of his girl but she'd vanished, gone, disappeared, evanesced! _Is this panic? Is that what this is?_ Petyr's heart thudded around his chest threatening to burst forth through his ribs. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder and it took all of Littlefinger's energy not to respond by punching whoever it was, spinning round he found the dark blonde locks under which was Jeremy.

“What!?” He growled.

“Tyrell said some guy left this for you.” The younger man in nothing but a pair of tight green jeans and black suspenders told him handing over a manilla envelope. “Here.”

Petyr took it quickly but never pulled his eyes from Jeremy who was a little unnerved by his boss' sudden tone, he wasn't one for conflict, no, Jeremy preferred to flirt his way out of everything: which usually worked.

“Who left it?” It was a demand more than a question.

“Don't know, Boss. Tyrell said he was small and had reddish brown hair. Said he looked terrified of his own shadow.”

Jeremy didn't say another word, didn't ask if his boss was okay, Jeremy knew better than that instead he simply turned and walked back to his job leaving Petyr to open the envelope. Inside was a single piece of paper with a photograph taped to the bottom, the image before him cause pure rage to course through his blood and anyone who came too close would risk being torn to shreds. Before him was a picture of Sansa unconscious lying in a trunk with bruises already forming on her neck, above was a message of only five words scrawled in what looked to be sharpie.

 

_**Come play at the cabin.** _

 

It was Ramsay's chicken scratch Petyr had seen enough of it on security reports to know that and he knew exactly where the cabin was, Baelish knew everything about everyone, Roose adored his mansion like log cabin out in the middle of the woods for his hunting trips. The place was a second home more than a cabin. None of that was important though, not a single bit of it, _why is he interested in Sansa?_ That was the real question... and then it all clicked. How had he been so stupid?! She'd told him once about Joffrey _loaning her out,_ Duvall Hitachiin was the kindest, the one who didn't get off on bludgeoning her _._ Kaegan Irelan liked her to be perfectly silent and only hit her when he was angry or she disobeyed him. Then there was the mystery man, pale with dark unruly hair, she'd never known his name because they normally refereed to him as _sadistic bastard_ and it was an apt description. How could he have missed it? Overlooked it? He was Petyr Baelish he knew everything, how didn't he figure it out? Ramsay was the last person on his list, the last person who raped and tortured his girl. His head was spinning, heart racing and fingers itched to claw Bolton into tiny bits. Petyr had promised to protect and care for Sansa, vowed that no one would ever harm her again, he'd failed her. Petyr didn't make mistakes but he'd made the biggest one of all time with the most important person in the world.

Music and talking surged around him but Baelish had long become deaf to it, not a note nor a syllable reached his ears, only his wrath filled heartbeat. He'd destroyed everyone who'd ever hurt her; Joffrey Baratheon was dead, Kaegan Irelan wished he was, Duvall Hitachiin had been digested by sharks, Cersei away in the nut house, even Twyin who had to have known. Ramsay would soon be the same, Petyr would make certain of that. Hands clenched into tight fists digging his nails in so hard that blood oozed from crescent shaped wounds, there was no pain though. Suddenly someone bumped into him on the way to the bathroom and the world snapped back to him, music blasted in his ears and the talking resumed. Petyr couldn't just stand there, he had to save Sansa.

He would save Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Spaceman by The Killers


	35. Death Is The Wish Of Some, The Relief Of Many, And The End Of All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warning for rape in this chapter. I know I said the rape would all be pre fic and technically this flashback is before the fic starts but I digress. I am writing it from an emotional view rather than a physical one but if you don't want to read that bit there are notes in capitals that indicate where the rape scene starts and ends so you can skip it if you'd like to.
> 
> The title is a quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca

He would save Sansa!

With those words echoing around his head like a motto Petyr jumped into action, eyes the color of grass in the night spotted Olyvar heading to the crowded bar, Petyr charged over to him and grabbed him by the arms maybe a little too tight and spun him around.

“Oly, I need you to watch Tristan.” His tone was full of rage and a little bit of fear.

“What? Why? What about Alayne-”

“Just do it!”

The blonde would have jumped back in shock had his boss not had a firm grip on his muscular arms, Petyr never shouted because people were more afraid of a quiet voice, he'd never seen his boss like this and it actually scared him. Petyr registered Oly saying something along the lines of _okay sure_ as he darted towards the exit and his car, racing away into the darkness and probably breaking every speeding law known to man. He had to get home, had to get his things, had to be prepared.

Baelish dove into the house leaving his Aston running and the frint door open as he raced to his basement to grab his black duffel bag and filled it up; blades, ammo, gloves, ammonia. Anything and everything Petyr thought could be of use. In less than five minutes he'd packed up his things and was off back into the inky night.

XXXX

_Darkness had long ago descended over King's Landing and_ _blackened clouds floated through the sky on a thick breeze that bordered on angry,_ _Joffrey's house was lit up like a lighthouse_ _in a storm. The blonde had finally decided it was time to introduce his so-called friends to his play thing, he was sixteen and couldn't force down the want to boast any longer. The other sixteen year olds and a twenty-one year old Duvall Hitachiin had gathered around the terrified young girl looking her over with judgemental eyes and smug smiles, she didn't dare look up as the consequences would be dire and more painful than words could describe._ _The blonde pulled her by the hair across the room then threw her down to kneel beside his poker table, her pale knees were bruised and red, stinging with pain and still bleeding from earlier that day when her Master had decided to try out his new lock knife. One of the other men laughed at her expression of agony, his black curly hair wobbling as his shoulders rose and fell a few times, a_ _guy_ _with mocha skin and a shaved head sat directly opposite her Master_ _the scary pale man took the seat to Joffrey's left and Duvall in his silver-grey suit to his right._ _The older stranger didn't frighten her as much as the_ _rest of them, there seemed to be something almost kind about him but the pet didn't let herself be fooled, no one was kind to her, no one showed her any care or concern; she wasn't worth it._

_The four of them played blackjack for a time, laughing and drinking mother's rui_ _n, whiskey and beer_ _,_ _until Kaegan came up with the 'fantastic' idea of playing to see what order they got 'the slut' in. In a way the game was rigged since Joffrey had no card skill what so ever but no one voiced that, after a few hands they had their order and Sansa gulped down her fear. Ramsay – the man whose name she still hadn't registered_ _thanks to the kick Joffrey had given her out of anger that caused her to pant on the floor –_ _would be first then Duvall, Kaegan_ _and Joffrey who would have to wait._

_G_ _rinning maniacally 'batter number one' as Kaegan refereed to him stood and pulled Pet up by her hair, the smile faded to a sneer of disgust upon feeling the greasy rough texture of her almost black locks. Long ago when she'd first been taken Pet though it had been red but that had long since vanished._

“ _I'm going to need that pretty little hidden chamber you call a 'playroom'.” It wasn't a question and Ramsay didn't hang around long enough for an answer._

_Rancid locks of hair were nearly tugged from her scalp when Ramsay started to haul her down halls and over to the bookshelf, in seconds he had the Baratheon's supposedly secret room open and the light flicked on, he pulled the girl into his arms only to throw her down the stairs. Pet landed with a loud thud but could only manage a whimper because she didn't have the energy to scream, he seemed pleased with the pain he'd caused but it was only the beginning; everyone in the house knew that. In the mood Joffrey was in he'd be off with Kaegan getting high while Duvall would likely help himself to one of the never read books in the house and settle down until his turn came. He planned on getting a dog, a little puppy, he'd never been able to resist anything cute._

_The house had been a gift from Cersei for Joffrey's sixteenth so he could 'have some space to himself' as she put it but the blonde had added a few things of his own after moving in, the secret playroom being one of them, he'd shown it to Ramsay, Duvall and Kaegan almost the second it had been finished. Pet's blood had been the first to flow across it's floor._

_(FOR THOSE NOT READING THE RAPE STOP HERE)_

_Leather snared her wrists as her azure eyes fluttered open still stinging from the agony of having been chucked down the few concrete steps, the leather bit her skin tighter, tighter, tighter until she couldn't move. Terrified eyes darted around desperately, she didn't know why there was no real point since no one cared enough to help her, the room was dark like always with no windows and only a few light bulbs that acted more like candle light than the modern world of electricity._

_The_ _stone_ _walls around her formed a hexagon and each one had been decorated with weapons, none of which Pet could name beyond swords and guns. In the corner closest the hard wooden table she'd been strapped too stood several fire pokers, those she knew all too well thanks to Joffrey's tendency to burn her._ _Horror tingled in her veins._

“ _Now you're going to be a good little bitch for me.” He commanded to screwed up eyes. “Understood?”_

_Pet nodded knowing she had no right to speak. The sound of his belt clicking open echoed around the room bouncing off the grey stone, though she looked everywhere but at him Pet knew he wore a grin. Ramsay walked over to a black cupboard on the other side of Joffrey's secret room and pulled it open, perusing a moment at its contents. What he took out was a large paddle made of black leather with silver studs decorating one side, Pet gulped trying to mentally prepare herself._ _The hard leather came down quickly and with power over her naked thighs with a sickening slap, she yelped which caused nothing but Ramsay's chortle and a second slap. Again and again and again the paddle came down, sometimes over the same red patch of scared skin, her complexion ashen and sickly._

_Desperately she tried to find a place in her head to hide away, maybe somewhere pretty where she wouldn't have a care in the world but that was not to be since Pet's only memories were a mosaic of agony, grief, devilish torment, blood and despondency. Her face pulled into another grimace that went unnoticed, skin growing clammy under the sadist's evil caress. Once bored of watching her skin turn every shade of red imaginable he pulled out a box of matches from his back pocket and lit one, pressing it to the flesh just above her private curls, at first it was just warm and uncomfortable but as the wood burnt the pain chewed into her flesh like a thousand tiny needles, it was such a simple torture – could hardly be considered torture really – but after long enough and almost half a box of the little matches Pet was bleeding squirming on the table. Each mark bleed slightly, they would heal quickly scabbing over by the next morning and wouldn't scar but they would certainly itch, a_ _niggling reminder of everything he'd do to her, of every other torture he'd ever put her though and once they were healed he'd only come back and do it again. Bolton didn't just like the physical aspect of hurting someone but the mental too._

_She didn't have to look to know he was hard, hurting her always got him there quickly and all Pet could hope for was that it would be quick, the sooner he finished the sooner, Duvall, Kaegan and Joffrey could have there turn and send her back to her cage under the bed. Strong hands gripped her throbbing crimson thighs pulling her down the rough table covering her naked back in splinters, the leather cuffs around her wrists gripped on tight as though trying to pull her back until her shoulders were fighting not to come out of their sockets._

“ _I'll teach you to like it rough, don't worry. Whore's always like it rough.” Rough was one hell of an understatement._

_Her lungs ceased to function when he pushed himself inside her trying to make it as painful as possible, long after her abrasions had healed both knew Pet would still be able to feel him deep inside her tiny body._ _She'd be able to smell his semen and sweat. If anything had been in her stomach she'd have thrown up, maybe it was a good thing she'd not been fed in longer than she could remember._

__She felt blood between her legs dripping down her beaten thighs and onto the wooden table, her insides tore with each new stab from his hard member._ Thrusts grew fast and erratic almost as soon as he entered her, Ramsay got off on the painful foreplay more than the actual act. Each rough thrust of hips banged her head against the dark wooden table but she'd yet again gone numb, _ _if she was lucky she'd die soon. Pet felt guilty for having a wish, she had no right to wants but that was her wish and as guilty as she felt it wouldn't leave her; she wanted to die. To die, to have it stop once and for all, for her body to give up just as her mind had years before, for it to just end. That was all she wanted in the world._

_(THOSE NOT READING THE RAPE CAN START FROM HERE AGAIN)_

_Outside the playroom Joffrey and Kaegan had returned from their 'drug break' as Duvall would call it and settled themselves on the couch next to the older man rolling joints for later. Duvall had a book in his hand and looked almost like someone's father relaxing after a long day at work, no one would see just how much evil was behind the suits and passion for reading; especially after he got that dog he wanted._

“ _Do you think there'll be anythin' left of her once you, me and Ramsay are done with her?” He asked Duvall with a chuckle._

_Mister Hitachiin sighed and set the book down, it wasn't overly interesting anyway. Straightening his dark tie complete with Nicky knot – Duvall was fully aware he was the only person in the house that could do more than a schoolboy knot – and then answered his so-called friend._

“ _I don't know what shape Ramsay will leave her in but I plan on playing a game with the wanton slut.” A smile tugged at his lips._

“ _You and your games, Duvall. Do you even fuck her or just play with her head?” Sneered Joffrey before licking at the paper of a joint.“Ha! Can you even get it up?”_

_Sometimes Duvall Hitachiin questioned why he associated with these... children, 'oh yes, easy money' his mind muttered._

“ _Do you spend a lot of time thinking about my long hard cock, Joffrey.” Kaegan burst into laughter. “Is there something you haven't been telling us? Should I maybe take you down to The Mockingbird and get_ _one of Baelish's boys for you to ride_ _all_ _evening.” Duvall remained stoic while Kaegan continued to giggle on the couch._

“ _Shut up!_ _The whore's mine, I can take your turn from you, Duvall.” Joffrey spat out the older man's name but he remained un-phased._

“ _No you can't, you owe me too much money to refuse my playing with her.”_

_Joffrey knew he was right which forced him into silence, thankfully Kaegan had gotten his fit under control. Kaegan was like Joffrey in a lot of ways but he did excel in one field that Joffrey had no hope in, he knew when it was time to stop and shut up._

“ _So what is your big plan to fuck with her? Gonna go all hypnotist?”_

“ _I don't need to 'go all hypnotist' with her, Ramsay is in there torturing her to his stony heart's content. All I have to do is go in there after him and show a little sympathy, tell her I think everyone has gone way too far this time. It'll take a few hours but I think I can get her guard down just enough to make crushing it again worth while.” Kaegan seemed to like Duvall's plan. The older man turned his attention back to Joffrey intent on teasing him some more. “You can watch me fuck her if you want, Joffrey. Imagine you're her.”_

XXXX

Sansa was walking back from the gargantuan circular bar having gotten a drink for herself and Petyr from Katrina, she didn't like the mass of people around her but it wasn't far back to her sweet Master's office, Sansa could make it. The music blasted through the club giving the dancers something to swing around their poles to and Sansa found she liked it though it wasn't the sort of thing Petyr would really listen too, there seemed to be a man reading something that sounded like a novel before a woman took over for the chorus.

 __Kyrie suggested we go for a drive in her new two-door BMW coupe  
In the parking lot, we slipped into her bucket seats Kyrie took over from there.  
At nearly ninety miles per hour she zipped us up to that windy edge known to some as Mullholland, that sinuous road running the ridge of the Santa Monica Mountains  
Where she then proceeded to pump her vehicle in and out of turns  
Sometimes dropping down to fifty miles per hour, only to immediately gun it back up to ninety again  
Fast, slow, fast fast slow  
Sometime a wide turn sometimes a quick one she preferred the tighter ones  
The sharp controlled jerks, swinging left to right before driving back to the right  
Only so she could do it all over again until after enough speed, and  
enough wind, and more distance than I had been prepared to expect  
Taking me to parts of the city I rarely think of and never visit...  


_Hey pretty_  
Don't you wanna take a ride with me?  
Through my world

She'd gotten half way across the large room back to that little door marked only as _owner,_ the music's soft but somehow heavy beat sinking into her mind where it would wait hours – days even – until it could pop back up again only to become annoying. The song didn't get long enough to really sink in though due to the messy haired man that matched her height came to a dead stop in front of her.

“Alayne?” He asked shyly.

At first Sansa wanted to run back to her Master and avoid conversation with the unknown man but only the staff knew her false name; or so she thought.

“Yes. Can I help?” She responded just as shyly, eyes cast down at Petyr's whiskey glass.

“You're dog got out and ran into the parking lot and Mister Baelish can't find the dog and said you'd have a better chance.”

Worry for Lady filled Sansa's body, Lady protected her just as much as Petyr did, she was Sansa's best friend. _What if she gets lost? Or hurt?_ The shy lanky male gestured for her to follow and Sansa did, all concerns of the stranger fading from her mind replaced with an urge to find Lady. Sansa set the drinks down on a table that William, Kiba and a costumer she had seen a lot off had taken as theirs for the night before following the stranger. Maybe he was new? Petyr didn't tell her every single thing that went on on his club, it was his club after all. In the back of her head screamed a voice desperate for her to return to the office but fret and alarm for Lady silenced it.

The night air was cold against her skin, especially after the hotbed of perspiration going on inside The Mockingbird, a mist had also started to roll in off the Narrow Sea veiling the trees in a fine haar, there was only a hint of it in the air when Sansa stepped outside but it would soon take over of that she had no doubt. The short nameless man lead her round to the back of the club past Petyr's car and she couldn't help but crouch down for a second and check to see if the wolfdog was hiding underneath; not such luck. Behind the club had become well trafficked by Sansa and Petyr in the time Tyrion had been with them but with his departure the front door had again become the natural choice, there were no cameras which was why Petyr had used it to get Tyrion in and only and one light fixed to the grey wall beside the locked back door. Her Master wasn't there however there was a parked dark blue BMW, everything in Sansa wanted to believe her Master was just around the corner or hidden in a shadow she'd not seen yet but the redhead knew that wasn't anything close to the truth.

“Where is he?” She tried to sound brave and cling to her dwindling hope but it was utterly pointless.

Suddenly there was chuckling behind her and Sansa's blood ran cold in her veins, she knew that chuckle all too well. Pale hands shivered visibly at her sides and the ability to run failed her, as though she were fixed to the spot by glue. Tears welled in her eyes and that was the first time since she'd remembered how that Sansa hated her wet cheeks.

“If you mean Baelish I'd guess in his office. You're so easily fooled and by what? The possibility of helping a dog. Pathetic!”

Each word cut like a knife sharper than any other, she was strong though, Petyr had given her bravery back to her and she would use it. Sansa took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, Ramsay almost flew the few steps to where Sansa stood clamping his hand down over her mouth silencing her scream half way through, he forced her backwards so she pressed against his chest hard enough to bruise them both. With the left hand over her mouth the right came up to wrap around her neck tightening harshly, legs flew out in all directions, Sansa wasn't that weak little girl anymore, she'd fight. A solid kick connected with Ramsay's shin knocking him to the floor but he wouldn't let her go, he'd waited long enough to get her back, he wouldn't let her go now.

Darkness clawed at her vision as it had so many times before with one key difference, Sansa didn't want to die any longer, as the black grew stronger and her breathing came to a stop one last thought went through her mind before unconsciousness took her.

_Master help me!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are Hey Pretty by Poe with her brother reading from his book House Of Leaves


	36. A Swinging Lightbulb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture

 

Darkness was the first thing she registered when the world started to come back to her, pitch black that stretched on endlessly as though it was all that remained of the universe, like her eyes had been covered over by charcoal. Her vision remained like that for a time almost fooling her into thinking the vibrant hues of plants and sparkling gold of the sun had been nothing but a vivid dream. Steadily though blotches a lighter black than the rest started to appear and take on shape, then as her azure eyes continued to adjust dull orange assaulted her beautiful orbs; eventually Sansa realised it was a single light bulb hanging awkwardly from a string.

The orange illumination wasn't overly bright - hardly stretching out into the dark depths - and only hurt her eyes for a moment, its sadistic buzz so close to her ear was what caused her head to ache. Though the buzz  hurt as though she'd been hit with a brick her neck was where the real pain was, Sansa didn't have to look down to know it had turned purple with heavy bruising that would only grow. Breathing stung her throat forcing her to take air in slow and shallow, suddenly a cough overpowered her fragile frame and her brain screamed out cursing her body.

More sickening that all the pain was the feel of eyes on her, knowing out in the shadows stood pure evil just waiting for the best moment to strike. High above her head Sansa's hands had been shackled, chain hanging from the ceiling only a foot or so from the light bulb, her hands had gone numb and slightly white from the lack of blood and she dared not pull on the metal restraints, if they were any tighter her wrists would have bleed. A heavy chill hung in the air and it was only then after the shock of pain, fear and just general confusion that Sansa realised she stood – well as best she could with her wrists chained – in nothing but cold flesh. She tried to shrivel up into a ball to hide her nakedness but it was of no use, glancing down for no more than a heartbeat Sansa saw her the beautiful white dress she had once worn with delicate lace sleeves lying in shredded rags at her feet. There was a momentary pang of guilt in her heart, that dress had been her Master's favourite.

Her heart ricocheted in her ribcage when the sense of eyes grew stronger, more oppressive, Sansa's breathing quickened and the sudden urge to throw up hit her. Cerulean orbs flashed around desperately searching for her sadistic capture but the room was too dark. The lightbult was nothing more than a tease of orange light. Suddenly there was a banshee like giggle directly in front of the redhead and a few seconds later Bolton stepped out from the shadows, there was a faint outline of another man but she gave that mystery no thought. The last Stark refused to scream, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not because she was unafraid but because she knew it was exactly what he wanted.

“I see my little slave is finally awake.” He said almost maniacally, Sansa tried to shake away some of her headache. “Awww, does your little head hurt? Doesn't matter. I only need you to do as you're told not to think.”

Sansa fixed her eyes on the cold floor and her tattered dress, she couldn't look at him, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach only grew worse.

“You've been a very bad girl.” The dark-haired man was bottled up rage just waiting to overflow. “Reek, show my new plaything what happened last time you pissed me off.”

The second figure stepped forwards giving up his shadow filled hidden sanctuary, surprisingly he looked even more terrified than he had in Petyr's club, _Master! He'll come for me._ Sansa had to have faith in that, in him. Hanging from chains Sansa had no choice but to watch as the man with curly red-brown hair – Reek – give her his back and lift up his threadbare green sweater revealing massively scared flesh decorated over with thick purple bruises and a brand new, barely healed, X over his shoulder. Ramsay smiled at her discomfort, discomfort was an immense understatement.

“That's my mark of ownership.” His eyes were crazy. “It'll be on you come morning. I don't know what Baelish made you think, that you're a person? That you had freedom?” Suddenly he was laughing again. “Did he give you the kid just to fulfil his _Nanny fantasises_?”

The desperate urge to scream what a good man her Master was hit her but Sansa held her tongue, three words slipped out though.

“Master is good.”

“No I'm certainly not, oh you mean him. Sorry Red but I own you, have for a while now. Joffrey lost you to me fair and square, you're _mine_! Baelish stole you and now I've taken you back, though I do like that I've just crushed all your hopes and dreams of being a real person.  What fun!” Ramsay let out a bone chilling giggle. “And anyway Baelish will be dead in a few hours.”

“No!”

“ _Yes!_ If you thought Baelish would live then you haven't been paying attention to who I am.” He seemed ecstatic with her horror, his sarcastic and sadistic grin shape at the edges. “What shall we play a game?”

Hesitantly Reek took another step forwards, just enough to enter Ramsay's peripheral vision, eyes cast to the floor and scrounged up enough bravery to speak.

“Master... you... you asked me to remind you about.... your father.” Reek stuttered.

Bolton spun around so fast he almost broke the sound barrier and for a moment both slaves thought he would kill Reek but he didn't, in fact he slapped Reek on the back with a friendly smile. Ramsay Bolton only had two settings, creepy but friendly or bat-shit crazy.

“I did yes, good boy Reek.” His attention turned back to Sansa. “I am Ramsay Bolton, and I own you. Don't accept it too quickly because I'd rather like to break you.” With another glance over Sansa's naked porcelain skin he started up the stairs. “Come on Reek.”

The younger man followed quickly fearing the consequences for tardiness. Everything went black and the door slammed behind them. Ramsay Bolton was his name, she knew that now, the Master who would be far worse that Joffrey ever was. Alone in the pitch black Sansa's mind filled with horrid memories of the past and thoughts of seeing Petyr dead.

 

XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX

 

_“Open your eyes!”_

_Ramsay commanded fearlessly but Pet couldn't bring herself to do it. He gave her a few seconds reliving in her pain and torment then dug his sharp demonic nails into her soft thigh, so deep crimson seeped from the crescent moon marks. She yelped._

_“Open your fuckin' eyes.”_

_He commanded again but this time it was all rage and Pet had no choice but to give in and open her fearful eyes, they stung from having been screwed up. The sadistic madman had wanted the redhead on her back for him since Joffrey had showed her off to his so-called friends and she hated him with everything she had. He always had some painful comment to make and a harsh kick to deliver._

_“Good girl. You're not completely stupid.”_

_Without a hint of warning her Master's friend grabbed Pet's ankles and pulled her flat against the old mattress and then flipped her over onto her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs in the form of a muffled yelp. Ramsay pulled her up by her long filthy hair – where once had been fire red locks now hung grimy brown – his strong hands bent her in such away that for a moment Pet thought he was going to break her back, like snapping a twig._

_“You scream again and I will make sure you can't remember your own name.” He chuckled like venom and clearly he didn't know that she'd already half forgotten.“You don't need a name to be a good fuck.”_

_The terrified slave quickly silenced herself at his words, knowing he meant what he said. Only this sadist could make her wish for Joffrey back._

_“Good girl.”_

_Pet hated the way he said that, like she was enjoying what he was doing, going to do but deep down she knew she had no right; Joffrey owned her he made the rules. Bolton leaned down and clicked open the black case that he'd set at his feel when he entered Joffrey's playroom, her heart had stopped when she saw it. From the case he took two lengths of rope and tied Pet's wrists to the heavy table frame, Ramsay could have used handcuffs, he had them but he liked the way rope burnt the skin, tearing at the flesh it found and causing as much pain was was possible. Ramsay pulled her ran a long finger down her pale and bruised flesh slowly adding insult to injury, taking his time to let her imagination fill with horrid thoughts of just how much he wanted to hurt her. Her owners friend bent back down to his case and the redhead knew exactly what was coming next, from the dark and heavy looking case came Ramsay's favourite riding crop out into the light and Pet had to bite her tongue to stop herself screaming for someone, anyone to help her, it was still strange to her that she had that urge after so many years; like some small part of her refused to give up._

_The crop had a black leather handle, red and black leather wound around to the very bottom, an almost triangular pad of black and it most certainly showed signs of great use but the redhead was sure he would call it signs of enjoyment. The dark-haired man stood, slapping the crop against his hand and chuckled to himself as the noise reverberated around the small dark room; he was enjoying this far too much. Letting terrified anticipation worm its way through the air, like a parasite under the skin. Satisfied with his slow build up, Ramsay raised the riding crop high pausing for a second to take in her naked body and brought it down on Pet's cold thighs, **Snap!** A pinky-red mark burst forth to decorate her icy skin that her owner's friend wasted no time tracing over with his fingers to make sure it hurt. Pet whimpered. _

_Another blow, another snap._

_“Say you like it!” He ordered in a deep half-mad voice._

_Pet couldn't deny she was beyond shock hearing that he wanted her to speak, sometimes she forgot she could since her voice was so rarely used, when the redhead said nothing he brought the crop down on the pale cheek of her ass, his breathing turned to pants with each satisfying smack. Pet bit down on her tongue keeping her pain silent._

_“Say it!”_

_“I...” Her voice was groggy from lack of use. “...I like it, please...d...do it again.” Pet sobbed out knowing to remain silent was beyond stupid._

_Tears pouring from her innocent azure orbs like an acidic waterfall. The crop came down again over her back. **Snap!**_

_“Good girl.”_

_He praised maniacally and moved to straddle her hips forcing her chest and chin further into the hardwood table, Ramsay pushed his clothed erection down against her naked buttocks while dragging his nails down her back, scratching, drawing blood, marking her. Brushing her hair away, exposing her neck he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to her neck. For a moment it felt like he wasn't a heartless bastard that would happily rip her apart if not for the want of using her again. He kissed down her back softly, slowly, with delicate lips... and then the pain was back. He dug his teeth into the sensitive flesh of her left shoulder blade calling forth wine colored blood, Pet couldn't help it...she yelped. Ramsay sighed in an exasperated tone that didn't bode well for the slave and tucked his riding crop under her neck so it went across her throat and pulled her back so she couldn't breathe, body begging for oxygen, he crept closer to shout in her ear._

_“I said not to scream!”_

_The crop found itself quickly removed and Pet face-planted back onto the large table gasping for air, in the corner of her eye she could see the crop being thrown to the floor, it landed with a twack. A small bit of relief hit her, until she realized what was coming next. Bolton pulled her so she was kneeling on pained knees and bruised bones completely exposed to him._

_“Say you want me!” He slapped as hard as he could. “Say it!”_

_Sansa knew she had no choice, he would never let her stay quiet and got far too much enjoyment from forcing her to speak his lies. All Pet wanted was for it to stop, she actually wanted Joffrey back._

_“I... I want... you.”_

_“That's my little whore.” He grinned. “Would you like me to take you away from here hmm? Keep you for my own? You know, I think I might. I bet I could get you in a card game, Duvall won't give him any more money and he's stupid enough to think he can win against me. Me! He can't, I promise little red, I'll make you my own."_

_"Oi quit fucking about with my bitch and let's get going." Joffrey called up the stairs._

_"Looks like you're getting off easy... for now anyway."_

_That was how he left her, cold, scared and in pain tied and bound.  
_

 

XXXX

Sansa's mind snapped back to the world around her when the basement door swung open and the tiny lightbult burst into life, it seemed brighter than before but maybe that was because she'd been in the dark for so long. An older man only an inch or so taller than Ramsay thudded down the creaky wooden staircase and into the large concrete space, it took her a moment to recognise him as Roose Bolton, Lion and Stag's CSO, _he works with Master._ Her eyes fell to the floor again when a second man came hurtling down the stairs after his father. Half way down the older man began to speak.

“Damnit Ramsay!” Yelled Roose, there was a little vein pulsing on the side of his head in stress. “Enough of your weird secrets. You really think I don't notice that boy you keep around? You've been hiding something else ever since we got here and I want to know what the fuck it is-”

Roose cut himself off and came to a dead stop when his eyes found Sansa, his mouth fell open in shock and fear crossed his features.

“Father-” Ramsay started but Roose just spoke over him, voice full of anger. 

“You took Baelish's niece?!” Roose Bolton wasn't completely stupid, he knew how deceptively dangerous Petyr was even if he wasn't a hundred percent sure what Baelish did on the side for the Lannisters. “You realise Baelish is going to kill you for this right?! Gods Ramsay you stupid little bastard.”

Ramsay just leaned against the wall by the stairs half in shadow and grinned sickeningly, he folded his arms and stood on one foot pressing the other to the grey concrete wall.

“I don't give a fuck what you think Baelish will do, he's pathetic and I can take him. He thinks he's smarter than everyone else at Lion and Stag but he's not and anyway everyone would be glad to see him dead.” 

“You want to kill the CFO of Lion and Stag? The only think that's holding that company together?” 

“I don't care about Lion and Stag and yes I will kill him... after you of course.”

S uddenly Ramsay was off the wall and a large hunting knife stuck out from his father's abdomen, Roose's face dropped as he looked at his son but Ramsay didn't care he just pulled the blade out and slammed in back in coating the floor in blood. Bolton the younger watched as light left his father's eyes and his soul was ripped away by The Ferryman intent on crossing the river Styx. 

Sansa screamed out in shock, warm blood splashed against her feet and ankles. Roose slipped to the ground before her leaving Ramsay wiping his knife clean on a torn shred of her old white dress  that he grabbed from the floor. Sansa's new Master watched her torment with glee, eyes flicking between her and his dead father, after a moment an idea hit him and Ramsay bent to dip one finger in the slowly growing blood pool and then started to write over her chest just above her breasts;  _ whore.  _ If he'd done that when Joffrey still owned her Sansa wouldn't have cared as much, wouldn't have felt as much, but Petyr had given her back emotion and now she felt like it was being ripped away form her one letter at a time.

“Reek move him over there.” Ramsay shot out a finger gesturing towards a dark corner to her left. 

The redhead hadn't noticed the other man until that moment, seemed he was one of those slaves that tried to remain invisible. The slave grabbed Roose by his right leg and hauled his corpse over to the corner hoping he was fast enough and wouldn't anger his Master,  if the former heir to The Iron Isle Shipping Company had learnt anything in the two years he'd been with Ramsay it was to do as he said quickly and quietly. 

“Look at all this blood, don't you just love that smell?” Ramsay licked the remaining blood from his fingers. Reek opened his mouth to answer but didn't get there quite fast enough. “I asked you a fucking question.” Ramsay spun around to face the man formerly known as Theon. 

“Yes, Master. It smells good.”

B olton looked back to Sansa expecting an answer from her as well, she could tell without looking up. 

“... yes.” She managed.

Suddenly Ramsay was so close she could smell his breath, coffee, some kind of meat and his father's blood, it made Sansa want to gag. She would have given anything for everything to be a dream and for her to wake up in Petyr's – her real Master's – arms.

“I own you, I'm your Master and you'll address me as such.” His tone was scarily calm. “Baelish will be dead soon enough and when he is I'll bring his still warm body down here so you can see what I and my dogs have done. I haven't fed them for days so what's left of him may be in an envelope.” Sansa wouldn't cry, she wouldn't! Ramsay glanced down to her blood splattered feet and back up he porcelain body stained with darkening bruises, doctors would still considerer her underweight but at her stomach she had started to plump up. “And it's good you're with me, you're getting fat. So!” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them with glee. “Shall we start with the flogger or the whip? I'd ask Reek but he's useless and you don't deserve a choice, slave. Flogger it is.”

Two sets of blue eyes watched Ramsay glide to a table on Sansa's far right, one male and one female, their Master perused for a while deciding which flogger he wanted as though he were a kid in a candy store. Eventually he decided on a black one with rich blood red intertwined, so reminiscent of the riding crop he'd used on her so many times before, _I want Petyr,_ was the only thought running through her mind but it made her feel guilty because if he came to her Ramsay would kill him. Each blow cut like glass, painful and unyielding, but Sansa refused to scream instead only whimpering. Suddenly Ramsay's harsh voice rumbled through her head pulling Sansa from her thoughts of Petyr. 

“You know, I've been wondering.” Another slap. “Baelish calls you his niece but I think we can accept that's absolute shit, and he's named you Alayne. You had to have had a name when you were born though. Why did Joffrey have you for so long hmm?” When she didn't respond the flogger came down hard and heavy against the tender flesh just underneath her her bottom where her thighs started. “You have to be from a powerful family then, someone they wanted to humiliate for as long as possible. So who are you?” Yet another clout, this time against her lower back over her spine. “Not a Tyrell, they didn't piss off the Lannisters until a few years ago.” Thwack. “Not a Targaryen either, far too much red hair.” 

Ramsay paused to run a long blood stained finger through her long locks, her hair was truly beautiful, even the sadist had to admit to that.  Without warning he gripped her tightly, nails scraping viciously against her scalp and nearly tugged her hair from her head; it only added to her headache. Tears pricked in her eyes but Sansa refused to cry , it was what he wanted. 

“You're not a Baratheon.” He mused aloud. “You're too pretty to be related to those oafs, unless you're one of Robert's bastards which I doubt, if you were they'd have just killed you. You're too pathetic to be a Lannister but not pathetic enough to be Frey. That only leaves the-” Ramsay cut himself off as a look of realisation hit him like a freight train, eyes wide and a little shocked but grin grew. “Oh that's priceless. You're a Stark!” 

Sansa's eyes widened but remained locked on the floor, he'd figured her out, he knew who she was! Ramsay continued having completely forgotten about the flogger in his hands and Sansa didn't know whether to be thankful for that or not.

“The last Stark, I see why Baelish wanted you.Which one are you, hmm? Sansa or Arya?" The redhead didn't answer but Ramsay didn't seem to care, he just continued to grin. "Such a cute little puppy dog. That's it! From now on I'm going to call you Puppy.” He smiled sickeningly. “Don't worry Puppy, I'll get you a new collar.”

“No!” The plea slipped from her lips before Sansa had a chance to stop herself.

Ramsay grin only grew wider at her horror before his eyes cast down to the flogger in his right hand.

“For now let's just play.”


	37. And Those Many Men Are Dead

Petyr's sleek grey Aston Martin rolled to a stop just out of sight of the large vacation home the Bolton's called their cabin. Darkness surrounded his vehicle like a cloak with viridescent trees that rustled with the movement of a light breeze; fog loomed. Its thick cloud dotting the cold metal with little water droplets that had gathered in the atmosphere. The crescent moon shone through brightly illuminating the mist turning it to a wall of white that would soon engulf the so-called cabin and all nearby, everything behind the garish wooden monstrosity had turned colourless as though the universe just came to an abrupt half and stretched on in nothing but vast emptiness.

Indescribable rage still surged through his body, veins filled with more anger than blood but Petyr couldn't let himself focus on that one emotion forever, he had to save his girl. No one would see the car hidden away amongst the trees and hopefully it would give Baelish enough time to surprise them. Diving out the car Petyr stripped off his grey suit jacket as though it were on fire and tossed it into the back seat quickly - no longer did he care about the eight-hundred dollars it had cost him - before rolling up his black sleeves revealing half his tattoos. Normally he remained perfectly stoic and unreadable but all he wanted to do was hurt and kill, he practically vibrated with intense fury; given the opportunity what did he do those who'd hurt the ones he loved?

Petyr forced himself to take a deep breath and fill his lungs with much needed cold air, it helped to cool some of the fire inside him but it came nowhere close to extinguishing it. He grabbed his black duffel bag it didn't take long to put on his ebony colored leather holster and slip his Colt Gold Cup into the light brown leather. He liked guns, when someone was shot it wasn't like a knife through butter, no, it twisted and turned, ripping into the soft gooey bit behind the flesh; destroying the muscles, tissue and organs.

He scouted the house quick and from a distance but very carefully. At first he thought it was the thickness of the fog but it soon became clear Ramsay hadn't let his dogs out to guard the area, oh this is a trap. Petyr wasn't stupid he knew that but it wouldn't stop him getting Sansa back. No one stole from Petyr Baelish, especially not his girl. Ramsay was expecting him, so Petyr had to do something unexpected, even if to the outside world his actions appeared stupid; no one expected Littlefinger to be stupid. Eventually the dark-haired man had looped the whole house and was back at the garage door, a camera hung high looking over the doorway before rotating a little down the driveway, from his place in the fog coated tree line it was easy to use the blindspot. He only had a few seconds to pick the lock before the camera rolled back round but that was all he needed, there wasn't a set of tumblers in all of Westorose that could stop him, the door opened with a satisfying click and Petyr didn't waste a moment stepping inside. The front door would have been to obvious and he was too fucking old to go climbing in windows like a teenage boy so the garage door it was. Two large cars filled the grey room that looked more like an underground storage bunker than a garage, closest the door was a two door BMW coupé in midnight blue; clearly belonging to Ramsay thanks to the large keychain hanging from the rear-view mirror in the shape of a snarling dog. The second car had been parked directly to the BMW's left, a charcoal Jaguar sedan that could have only belonged to Roose Bolton; they are both here then. Petyr ignored the cars though in favour of finding a place to stash his bag, it would be easier to move around without it.

Quickly the Cleaner spotted a large metal shelf stacked high with every piece of crap one could imagine for their cars as well as the more useful like oil, wax and de-icer. Petyr pushed his bag under the large stand alone shelving while listening to the house, silence. This is far too easy, I know he wants me here but I didn't think he'd make it this easy. He tried not to think about the horror Ramsay was forcing his darling Sansa through because if he did anger would cloud his judgement. The dark-haired man stood and went over to the large oak door that lead to the main house to the right of the shelving, he pushed it open with ease only to find the house lit up but silent, almost dead. The so-called cabin was huge and a little under decorated save for the mass of mounted heads on the walls, a chandelier made of antlers that quite frankly was disturbing hung down in the centre of the large main room over two black armchairs and a large matching couch. To the far right was the dining room that led to the kitchen decorated with yet more mounted heads, but Petyr cared little for the Bolton's décor, he had Sansa to find.

Ramsay would have either had her chained up in the basement or tied to his bed upstairs, the only reason he headed to the basement first was because it was closer and easier to torture her in. A small door hidden away behind the winding staircase was smaller than the rest, like it didn't want to be noticed, Petyr reached for it turning then doorknob silently. It turned without incident and Petyr slipped inside taking each step one by one, pressing his weight down carefully to avoid squeaks or creaks. He half expected hands to fly out from behind the stairs and trip him. The room had little to no light save for a small lightbulb at the very bottom of the almost endless staircase, at first he thought the place was empty but reaching the bottom told him otherwise. Illuminated ever so slightly by the bulb's orange glow was Sansa, wrists chained high above her head bleeding and bruised.

“Oh Gods Sweetling.”

Sansa's back was bleeding from the Flogger and her hair was everywhere almost as though she'd been in a hurricane, the word whore had been scrawled over her naked chest in crimson blood; her own or someone elses he didn't know. She'd half collapsed leaving her blood splattered feet lazily on the floor supporting no weight what so ever. Her whole body had been held up for hours by nothing but her wrists and heavy black-grey chains, just when Baelish though he couldn't get any more rage into his body there was a surge and he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms.

“Sansa?” He said quiet enough that only she would head. A hand came up to cup her pale cheek.

Tired blue eyes managed to open and lock onto the man before her, for a second she thought she was dreaming or hallucinating but no, this really was Petyr.

“Master?”

Petyr grinned.

“Yes, Sweetling. It's me, it's Petyr.”

He couldn't help it he just had to kiss her, his other hand came up to cup the other cheek and he pressed their lips together for a quick kiss. Sansa winced in pain when Petyr dropped his hands and pulled her up to stand on her feet, Ramsay's death isn't going to be as easy as Joffrey's, no poison, I want to see blood and hear screams! Looking up to the shackles grass colored eyes found that each one had two locks rather than the standard one and there was no way he could just break the chain keeping her attached to the ceiling, he had no choice but to pick them. Baelish reached into his back pocket for his lock picks.

“Master go.” She mumbled through the pain. “Leave me and go. Please.”

Petyr froze in shock, eyes locked on her half-conscious face.

“What? No, of course I won't. I'm taking you home.” He told her determinedly.

“Please, you have to.” She was crying now, she'd only ever cry for him. “He's going to kill you. Please just go.” She begged.

Petyr could hardly breath, there was no way he'd just leave her, he wouldn't, he couldn't.

“I won't leave you.” He argued forcefully reaching for the first lock and setting to work.

Tears poured down Sansa's cheek, her eyes grew red and started to sting, lips dehydrated bringing back her headache. She couldn't watch him die.

“He'll... kill you.” Sansa stuttered out with her sobs. “You gave me a year. A year... I never thought I'd have.” Petyr came to a dead halt, hands frozen in their movement and looked down to his angelic girl, green-grey met blue. Why was it the worst situation imaginable that let him see those beautiful eyes again? She continued. “A year where I was happy, you made me happy. Do it again and go.” Her words were but a whisper.

“I said no!” He shouted completely forgetting Ramsay and Roose were somewhere in the house.

“Please-”

“No!” There were whisper shouting now.

“Please-” He cut her off again.

“No, I won't leave you!”

“Why!? Why won't you just go and save y-”

“Because I love you!”

Everything went silent with that confession, he'd felt it for so long and yet there in that dark basement was the first time he said it. As a teen Petyr had thought he loved Cat but that was a childish crush compared to what he felt for Sansa, he'd do anything for her; except leave her there. Sansa's tears drip, drip, dripped down onto the cold floor and her heart surged.

“I love you too... that's... that's why you have to go.” She sobbed “Take care of Tristan and Lady.”

“How touching.” Said a new voice, deep and sarcastically.

Petyr swung around arms falling to his sides, it took everything Petyr had not to launch at Ramsay and rip his throat out with his own teeth. Two large Rottweiler flanked him snarling viciously, a shorter man stood behind him on the stairs.

“So she is a Stark. Wonderful. Don't worry I'll make her forget that.”

Petyr pulled his Colt Gold Cup in less time than it took to process the fact he'd moved. He desperately wanted to shoot Ramsay but he knew the second he did the two Rottweilers would attack. If they'd been raised by another the animals probably would have been friendly and loved but instead they got Ramsay, they'd been tortured just as Sansa had.

“Bastard.”

“Words hurt Baelish.” Ramsay grinned. “And you fire that gun my dogs eat you, they haven't been fed for days, but you've figured that out already.” Petyr stared at him down the still raised gun. “I'm going to play a game with you Baelish, you love games. You get ten minutes head start and then I'm letting my dog loose on a search and destroy mission.”

Petyr's moss colored orbs flicked to the dogs then Sansa and finally back to Ramsay who just stood there with a look of complete abhorrence on his sharp features.

“Many men have tried to kill me, and those many men are dead.”

“Confident, I like it. But as I said, ten minutes, well, nine and a half now.”

The man with grey at his temples again looked to his darling girl.

“I'll come back.”

With that he was gone charging past Reek almost knocking him to the ground. Petyr would play Ramsay's little game if only to buy himself some time to take Ramsay by surprise. Ramsay stood watching the basement door for a few moments before turning to Sansa.

“He's right, he'll be back but he'll be dead.” The words cut like a knife through her heart. “Reek, stay here and watch the bitch.”

Bolton the younger stared at his watch for a full ten minutes, grin growing larger with each second that passed while Sansa's heart grew heavier as thoughts of the man she loved lying dead before her filled her mind.

He giggled when ten minutes were up and with a whistle the dogs were released.

 

XXXX

 

This wasn't how Petyr imagined himself dying, eaten by hungry dogs, really, it had never occurred to him. He could hear them coming, barking, following his scent through the trees that surrounded the cabin, Petyr's heart raced and his lungs begged him to stop but he'd never give up, he had promised to protect Sansa, to go back for her and he would. Remembering the small creek he's spotted when he'd circled the house Petyr raced towards it in hope of loosing the Rottweilers or at least slowing them down and confusing them. Baelish ran zig-zags through the small creek trailing his scent this way and that going back on himself as best he could to disorientate the Rottweilers before pulling a skedaddle off into the thicker woods. He knew he couldn't risk running straight across the clearing, it was far too open, no he had to go around, Ramsay knew Petyr would loop back but he enjoy the chase more than the inevitable kill.

Feet stomped down crushing leaves and snapping branches with eerie tones, soil stuck to his Italian leather shoes scratching and staining, never again would they be wearable; not that Petyr cared. An owl hooted not far away while small creatures scurried in the distance, the moon in the sky silver and powerful as though a celestial watcher surrounded by tiny stars glinting in the night, it would have been beautiful under different circumstances. Petyr's heart bounce around his chest as he pushed himself to run faster through the dense dark forest, up tiny hills not more than mounds covered over with leaves in shades of pale green, orange and yellow. He hadn't run this much since track in high school.

When the forest thinned to almost nothingness Petyr had no choice but to break into the clearing and bolt for the house, he could still hear the vicious animals but they were a distance off now, seemed his confusion tactic had worked giving him a few minutes extra to work with. Petyr made it back to the garage door and through past the parked cars, by now he'd realised Ramsay had probably killed Roose or done something equally terrible, otherwise he'd have seen the CSO. If Roose was gone then there was officially no one left to control Ramsay, the full extent of his evil was free.

Petyr rushed down the basement stairs so fast he nearly slipped and fell to the bottom but he managed to recover and found himself face to face with the scared little slave he'd caught a glimpse of earlier. Sansa's eyes lit up at the sight of him alive and unhurt but Reek's grew wide with fear. Petyr pulled his gun aiming it at the proverbial deer in headlights perfectly prepared to shoot dead the messy haired man.

“Please don't. Please.” He squeaked.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“Reek.” He whispered looking down to the floor.

“Oh no, real name.” Petyr wasn't taking anymore of Ramsay's crap.

It had been so long since anyone had asked him that, to be honest he was beginning to forget he'd once been from a good family and possessed freedom.

“Theon.” He finally answered and Baelish's left eyebrow rose up his forehead in question.

“As in Greyjoy? The heir to Iron Isle Shipping?”

His hair had grown out in the two years he'd been missing, his skin was paler and he'd thinned out letting his clothes hang off his thin frame; rags was a better description. Reek, or Theon, stared in amazement as the dark-haired stranger with grey at his temples lowered his weapon and slid it back into its dark brown leather holster. He just went back to picking the mass of locks on Sansa's cuffs, Theon didn't know whether he should have run or screamed but in the end the younger man just decided to remain perfectly still and not say a word.

“If you want to live I suggest you do as I say.” Petyr said flatly without looking up. “Where did all the blood come from? It's not Sansa's.”

For a second Theon stood there on the edge of remaining or running away before managing to return autonomy to himself and pointing over to the corner behind him.

“...Mister Bolton. Mas-” No, Theon wouldn't be Reek any longer, this stranger, this Petyr Baelish, would be his salvation. Ramsay wouldn't be a Master anymore. “Ramsay killed him.”

Petyr glanced up only for a moment before unlocking the last of the cuff locks, she collapsed onto him nearly knocking them both to the ground. There was so much care and devotion for the redhead all wrapped up in stormy eyes, his body seemed calm but he couldn't hide his tense shoulders. Something told Theon that this man was far more dangerous than Ramsay ever could be, and that both scared and reassured him; scared because after what Ramsay had done the idea of someone worse made him feel faint and reassured because Baelish actually stood a chance of surviving the night.

“Drag Bolton's body over here.” Littlefinger ordered.

Theon didn't know what the other man was planning and he didn't question it.


	38. Between The Tick And The Tock

Ramsay wasn't stupid, he knew Baelish would loop around  and go straight back to the house but where would the fun be if he didn't give chase? What he'd not expected was Baelish finding the creek, it was at least a click from the house and he'd not thought Petyr could run that fast. The water had disorientated his dogs but it wouldn't last long,  yes he knew where Baelish was going but Ramsay wanted to play his little game. Sure enough his snarling Rottweilers re-found Littlefinger's scent and followed quickly, stalking, hunting, Ramsay's sickening grin never faltered.  He was going to enjoy making that red-headed whore watch as he gutted Baelish;  _ maybe I'll make her a necklace from his intestine.  _ He chuckled sinisterly. 

The same garage door that Petyr had entered the first time stood open and Bolton's grin only grew knowing Baelish would soon be begging him to live,  _ this is going to be fun!  _ He rubbed his hands together with glee. Ramsay pushed the long sleeves of his dark grey-green t-shirt up to his elbows and tied the two jet black leashes  tightly to the heavy garage door knowing they'd not be needed in the basement. The psychotically deranged bastard  snickered to himself,  opening the basement door he found it pitch black but he could still make out his new pet chained at the bottom of the stairs and found himself wondering  where Baelish was hiding, because he had no doubt that Littlefinger was waiting to jump out and attempt an attack.  _ Reek's probably out cold, I'll teach him his lesson later.  _ Ramsay slithered down the light wooden stairs  waiting for Petyr to jump out but he never did which surprised the dark-haired man a little, as soon as his foot hit the bottom step the basement door slammed shut sending a blast of cold air hurtling down the stairs where it hit Ramsay in the back of the head forcefully. 

“ You're not as smart as you think you are!” Petyr shouted through the door. 

Anger surged through Bolton's body, rage heating his blood, Ramsay launched to the light switch at the bottom of the stairs and flicked it on. There was no surge of light like he'd have gotten in every other room, this was the basement and he only got the faint glow of orange from the single bulb in the middle of the room, it wasn't much but it did illuminate the person hanging from the chains; Roose Bolton's dead body.

“Hey Ramsay.” Petyr shouted through the door, he could hear the smile in his voice. “How hungry do you think you're dogs are?”

Ramsay chuckled sadistically.

“There's nothing you can do to me, Baelish!” He yelled back up the stairs. “My dogs won't hurt me and as soon as I have them I'm breaking down the door and tearing your lungs out.”

“We'll see about that shall we?!” _Did Littlefinger just giggle?_ “Good luck!” 

Suddenly the basement door opened and before Bolton could take even an inch towards the door high up the stairs his two Rottweilers came hurtling down towards him and the door slammed again. Ramsay's face grew serious when the two animals snarled and took steady steps closer, they couldn't possibility be thinking about hurting him? He owned them! Yet with a rumble in their stomachs and the scent of all that fresh blood he couldn't really be sure any longer.

“No.” He said sternly filling his voice with as much authority as he could. “Obey your Master!”

The snarling grew louder and then all Petyr, Sansa and Theon could hear was screaming.  Long agonising screams that had long forgotten words, the sound of tearing flesh and deep snarles had almost been drown out by Bolton's screams. Petyr wouldn't stand there and listen to it, not when Sansa hung half-unconscious  in the other slave's arms, in seconds Baelish held her tight against his chest where she instinctively gripped the dark fabric of his clothing. 

T heon – because he refused to be Reek any longer, especially now Bolton was dead, or at least very close to being dead – followed along being Littlefinger as he trudged out of the house and off into the far off tree line, the older man looked so driven and determined, so full of care for Sansa.  A sleek Aston Martin came into view and Theon knew he was finally free. Petyr carefully lay Sansa down in the back seat and all but shoved Theon in beside her before climbing in the front and driving away from the gargantuan cabin. Eyes that had been dead for so long stared out the window  at the darkness, occasionally the orange flash of a street lamp would fill the car illuminating Sansa's pale flesh revealing deep cuts and large bruises that Ramsay had caused in such a short time. 

S uddenly the car grounded to a halt and an instinctive flash of fear surged up his spine though he knew he had nothing to fear from Petyr Baelish, for now at least. Petyr hopped out the car on the abandoned dark road almost cocooned by a canopy of trees. 

“Get out.” Said the dark-haired man with temples of ash as soon as he'd opened the back passenger side door. 

Theon practically leapt from his seat when Petyr pulled his Colt Gold Cup from it's holster and aim at the younger man, he's thought he'd be free of all the agony but maybe he had been wrong, maybe the goodness he'd seen the those seafoam eyes was a lie,  maybe today really was the day he died. Petyr took a breath. 

“Theon you have two options. One: I put a bullet in your head and leave you here for the animals. Two: you follow the left road.” Baelish pointed ahead of the car to a fork in the road. “That will take you into the city, it's only a quarter of a mile.”

“Two.” Theon said quickly. “Option two.”

“Good choice.” Petyr grinned smugly. “However, there are rules. You can tell anyone you like about being kidnapped but you never reveal it was Ramsay who took you, never saw their face. You never tell anyone about my or Sansa's involvement, _ever!_ If you do I'll kill you before you've finished every syllable, I promise you that” The Greyjoy nodded in understanding knowing he didn't have much choice but to agree. “Finally, we _will_ meet again and when that happened I want you to do everything in your power to convince your father and sister to sign a contract with Lion and Stag, specifically to me. Do you understand, Theon?” 

The younger man responded timidly. “Yes.”

“Good. I saved your life Theon Greyjoy, you owe me. Now go.”

Theon didn't wait he just ran down the road in the direction Petyr had pointed while the elder man climbed back into the car and looked into the back seat. Sansa had fallen asleep almost as soon as he'd set her down ,  despite all the bruising she was still utterly beautiful and Petyr couldn't help but smile at his girl. 

“You'll be alright, Sweetling. I'm here.”

Without another word Petyr drove away taking the opposite fork to Theon  towards home. 

XXXX

“ _ **Breaking News! Earlier this morning Roose Bolton and his twenty-one year old son, Ramsay, were found dead in their vacation home. According to police, the Bolton's were attacked by their own dogs in the basement of their home, the dogs in question, two Rottweilers, have since been captured by animal control. They were discovered by Myranda Royce,**_ _ **the late Ramsay Bolton's girlfriend,**_ _ **after three days of no contact and the Police are yet to release an official statement. Lion and Stag Enterprises are also yet to release their own,**_ _ **Roose Bolton served as the companies CSO or Chief Security Officer with Ramsay Bolton as his deputy.**_ _ **These are the third and fourth deaths in a string of tragedies for the multi-billion dollar corporation as well as the retirement of Mister Pycelle the long time CLO – Chief Legal Officer – and recent breakdown of Cersei Lannister due to the murders of her son and Father. Attempts to contact Jaime Lannister have been made but he is yet to make himself**_ _ **available to answer our questions.**_ _ **Hopefully we'll have more information later on today. I'**_ _ **m Claudette**_ _ **Olafsdotter**_ _ **reporting from outside the Bolton's residence for KLN.”**_

The screen flicked back to the anchorman, a blue background of large screens behind him and wearing a charcoal suit  and hideous paisley tie. 

“ _ **Thank you Claudette. In other news Theon Greyjoy has been found alive wandering the streets on Saturday morning, Mister Greyjoy has been missing and presumed dead for the last two years and is the heir to the Iron Isle Shipping company, a family business first started in the nineteen-twenties. Reports indicate he has no memory of the horrific events he's been through however, it has been conformed that Theon Greyjoy was kidnapped-”**_

Petyr didn't need to hear more than that, Theon wouldn't reveal Petyr's involvement. He was the weak link in Baelish's plan but Theon had held, Police wouldn't find any evidence of himself, Sansa or Theon at the cabin; he'd made deathly sure of that. Rising from the black leather couch Petyr turned off the television and took a deep breath while wondering what to make for dinner, they'd had Baeckeoffe the night before but there was some wonderful swordfish in the fridge that he'd gotten from the market the night before. Petyr never got further in his thoughts thanks to the sudden crying that erupted from upstairs.

Baelish followed his feet up the staircase that hugged the dark purple walls as it spiralled and into Tristan's room. With careful hands he picked up the young boy and cradled him gently in strong arms.

“Shhh, Tristan. You're Mother needs her sleep, especially after everything that's happened.”

Tristan only wanted some attention and quietened down almost as soon as his father came into view, he clung to Petyr's plum colored shirt tightly. Petyr didn't say a word, just silently indulged his son. Everything was silent and peaceful.

“Daddy.” Tristan mumbled softly and Petyr smiled.

“Yeah that's me now, isn't it? No getting away from that one.”

“Mama!” Tristan's little voice was adamant and Petyr couldn't help but smile down at the dark haired boy.

“We'll go and check on her but no loud noises.”

Caring Tristan into Sansa's room at the end of the hall Petyr found himself settling into the idea of being a real Father, Sansa and Tristan were his family now... _It's taken me a while to realise that._ They found Sansa tucked up fast asleep just where Petyr had left her, thick duck egg blue drapes remained closed darkening the room and preserving the illusion of night; though some daylight did creep in from underneath. She lay on her back with silk sheets up to her neck, face half purple thanks to Ramsay's beating and thick bandages around her wrists due to the cuffs. He set the young boy down who instantly crawled towards his Mother in search of warmth and comfort, Petyr couldn't blame Tristan, who wouldn't want to snuggle up to Sansa and stay there forever? Instinctively Baelish rested a large palm on her stomach and smiled, not one of those smug smiles he was famous for or even one of the devilish grins, no, this was a pure smile of happiness that were oh so rare. After a moment his other hand rose up to check her temperature, cool; no infection. Physically Sansa would recover but the mental scars Joffrey, Ramsay and their so-called friends had caused wouldn't heal so easily, people said that time healed all wounds but Petyr knew the truth, yes time let the wounds scar and fade but they never left, never, it didn't matter how hard someone fought to forget it would always remain. 

All the work Sansa had put in over the last year – learning to read, go outside on her own,  make friends with Tyrion and Olyvar, smile, accept she was a person and not a slave – had all been torn down by Ramsay and his thirst for dominance and sadistic torture. If Petyr could kill him again he would, slow and painfully with his bare hands, alas that wasn't possible.  Petyr couldn't bring back the dead and if he could he would have brought his Mother back many years ago. 

Gently the redheads eyes started to flutter open and Lady took the opportunity  to hop up onto the bed from her place on the wooden floor, crawling over to her Mistress and nuzzling into her side. 

“Master?” She muttered sleepily.

“Hey Sweetling. Don't move too quickly okay?” She didn't seem to be listening.

“Master, Ram-” He cut her off with a smooth tone.

“He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore, no one will I promise you.” It wasn't just an promise but an oath.

Sansa tried to move but as soon as she did her body hissed out in pain.

“Mama!” Tristan cried in worry.

“Tristan hush.” Petyr turned his head back to his girl. “Don't move so fast.”

Carefully Petyr helped her to sit up and pushed a pillow behind Sansa to keep her propped up, the child cuddled up closer.

“What happened?” Her voice was timid and scared just like when they'd first met, it was heartbreaking.

“That's a long story, baby girl. First I need you to tell me how you feel.”

“Sansa's head hurts a bit and her back too.”

Petyr cringed upon hearing her fall back into third person but he didn't question it, there would be time for that. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips reminding her he cared.

“Okay, tell me if the pain gets any worse.”

Sansa nodded. “What happened?” She asked again while pulling Tristan onto her lap.

Petyr sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking an am around her shoulders.

“Do you remember Bolton taking you?” She nodded again. “With the help of his slave, Theon, I managed to get to you, as for Ramsay, I fed him to his dogs.” Petyr paused for a moment. “Then I brought you home and got you a doctor... Sansa there's something you should know. Please don't freak out.”

XXXX

_Petyr stood in by the bed made up in navy sheets looking down at his darling Sansa with grass colored eyes full of worry and concern. Doctor Jaelynn Ootori stood on the other side checking the redheads pusle and doing other doctor-y things, to be honest Petyr didn't care what she did as long as she helped his darling Sansa; Doctor Ootori had been in his pocket for years and was the only doctor he'd let near his girl. It took him a moment – he'd been too lost in his own thoughts – but eventually he realised she was speaking in that Northen accent of hers._

“ _... You told me on the phone that she'd been beaten so that's why I'm doing an ultrasound. Don't want to miss any internal bleeding.” Said the doctor peering closer at the screen her braided blonde hair falling over her right shoulder while her left hand continued to move the sensor over Sansa's exposed stomach._

_Petyr glanced at it too but it really meant nothing to him, just grey and black blobs, instead his moss colored eyes fell back to a sleeping Sansa. However, he couldn't help but notice Doctor Ootori's shaped eyebrows fly upwards and her back hunch as she got even closer to the little screen._

“ _What?” It was both a question and a demand._

“ _Em, well... if I'm looking at this right...”_

“ _Spit it out!”_

“ _She's... pregnant.”_

_And just like that everything stopped, his dastardly plans, all thoughts, even time grounded to a halt. He was stuck between the tick and the tock, no breathing, no speaking, Petyr just stood there staring down at his sweet Sansa. There had been birds flying over the bay outside but he'd fallen deaf to them, Lady had cuddled up to Sansa's side and snored but that sound didn't reach him either. She was... pregnant – Sansa was pregnant. Suddenly his mind snapped back and the world started to revolve once more, birds chirped, Lady snored softly and Petyr regained the ability to speak and think._

“ _Pregnant?” Was all he managed to get out._

“ _Yes, pregnant. Going on eleven weeks by the looks of it. She'll start to show properly soon, I'd say she hasn't already because of how damn skinny she is. Has she had any nausea?” The blonde doctor asked._

“ _Yes.”_

_Was this actually happening? Petyr found himself fitting pieces together that he'd not even known were part of a puzzle; Sansa had been complaining of nausea for weeks and he'd just brushed it off as something stress related, she'd put on weight too though that was a little less noticeable because of how undernourished she'd been when he found her. Pregnant, all those years she'd spent with Joffrey and yet after only a few times of him stupidly forgetting protection she was carrying his child. 'How could I be so careless?'_

_Petyr was much too lost in his own mind to hear what Doctor Ootori said next, Sansa was going to freak out._

XXXX

“Master?” There was panic and fear in her voice as well as a lack of understanding.

“I was as shocked as you, Sweetling.” He tried to sound calm knowing it would help ground her. He took a breath. “I... I have two doctors on standby, one works at an abortion clinic and the other is the best OB/GYN in the city. The first doctor can get rid of it while the second helps take care of it until it's born.” Petyr shuffled up the bed a little watching how she clung to Tristan. “This is your choice and you don't have to make it now. Take as long as you like just thing about it, don't do what you think I want, do what you want. Concentrate on getting better first.”

He didn't want to force her into anything. There was silence for a long time, Sansa's whole body had gone rigid and tense – not that Petyr could blame her – blue eyes darted about anxiously and teeth bit her cut bottom lip. He didn't mean to make her feel like this but it was unavoidable. Knowing it would help – and he desperately wanted to touch her – Petyr pulled her into his arms carefully and held her close

“You're safe.” He told her with all the emotion he could push into his voice. “Anyone who ever hurt you is dead and gone. You're safe. I love you.”

Sansa smiled weakly at that, those three little words made her heart soar high above the darkness of her fears and pain. Over her short life Sansa had become accustom to hearing lies but Petyr – the King of lies – only spoke the truth, he truly loved her and that made those words even more important to her.

“I love you too.” She told him in her mouse like voice, slipping out of thrid person.

They stayed like that for a long time, Sansa securely in her loving Master's arms while Lady and Tristan snoozed at her side without a care in the world. The young girl cuddled into Petyr's chest and he rested his chin atop her head; the scent of his cologne soothed her nerves. After what could have been forever Sansa spoke.

“What happened? I... I don't really remember.”

“Good.” Was all Petyr said.


	39. Press Conference

 

XXXXFLASHBACKXXXX

 

Petyr Baelish had returned to the gargantuan log cabin in the very early hours of the morning, the sun wouldn't grace the world with it's presence for hours, he'd left an unconscious and beaten Sansa with Lady and Olyvar who'd been full of questions; not that Petyr was willing to give any answers. Olyvar was the only one he trusted enough to watch over his girl after all that had happened – he still wasn't entirely comfortable with that – and Lady would guard her Mistress with her life. 

His feet carried him down the wooden stairs into the basement just like hours earlier though this time there hadn't been a beaten Sansa at the bottom. To his right lay the two Rottweilers flat out in a pool of crimson blood with scraps of Ramsay Bolton still hanging from their mouths, the animals were so full that they couldn't be bothered to even notice Petyr's presence; he was grateful for that. 

“Good boys.” He praised with a smug grin when the smaller of the two Rottweilers wiped its paw over its face knocking free a sliver of flesh.

It was a shame, Petyr had no doubt these two dogs had once been friendly and playful... then Ramsay got a hold of them. Green eyes glanced over to see Roose hanging in place of Sansa,  he smiled seeing the dogs had gone at Roose's corpse as well, his abdomen had been torn open hiding all evidence he'd been stabbed which was a rather nice little boon. Carefully he let the older man down from the cuffs – which hadn't bruised his wrists thanks to the fabric Petyr had wrapped around them hours previous and the helpful aid of gravity – and lay him on the floor soaking his back with wine colored blood from the pool that had yet to dry. 

He had to work quickly and get back to his girl so pulled his black latex gloves up his wrists a little further then set to work unscrewing the heavy cuffs from the ceiling; that task was made much easier thanks to a silver stepladder he spied in the corner. Once removed they vanished into his ever present duffel bag. Sansa's blood had merged with that of Roose and Ramsay becoming unidentifiable – thankfully,  _saves me a job –_ but  Petyr had to be careful not to step in the vast splashes of ichor. 

The whip, riding crop and other such monstrosities used to torture his girl were unceremoniously dropped into the dark bag as well never to be seen again. After that he wiped down everything Sansa could have touched in her short time at the cabin. It didn't take long to find Ramsay's bedroom – third door on the left –  his bag lay untouched on the bed as though he'd not even thought about unpacking and beside it lay a small box of perverted sickness; seemed he'd not expected killing Baelish to take that long. 

“Poor Ramsay, he didn't think it through.”

Inside the blue lacquer box were photograph after photograph of the pain Ramsay'd inflicted upon Theon and his darling redhead and it made him angrier than he'd ever felt before. Pure fury filled his blood heating it to the temperature of lava, his hands gripped the box so tightly that the wood started to creek under the pressure of his white fingertips; his girl's pain was _not_ an amazement to be spectated over as though it were a sport. _Ten points if she bruises a hundred points if she cries,_ his mind growled.

He had to force himself to take deep slow breaths for a few moments before getting himself back on task hiding all evidence they'd been there, he couldn't destroy everything of Theon because he just didn't know what he'd touched and Petyr couldn't wipe the whole house or burn it to the ground – like he wanted to – because police would grow far too suspicious. He wanted to race back to the redhead and get Doctor Ootori to check her over but he couldn't leave things half done, Oly would have called if there was a problem. The man with hair of ask and coal worked quickly and precisely refusing to make a mistake that would put Sansa in jeopardy. He hoped it was all over now, that she was truly safe, he'd never let anyone else hurt her.  _I love you too,_ the words echoed around his head drowning out everything else, she loved him but what was even more surprising was that he loved her back. Truly he did. All his life Petyr thought he'd only ever loved Catelyn, but stood there in the Bolton cabin Petyr wondered if what he'd felt for Cat had just been a teenage boy's interpretation of love. Everything he felt for Sansa was so much  _more_ than anything he'd ever felt for Catelyn. He'd only had a crush on her, a long lived infatuation that meant nothing in the end, his heart belonged to Sansa. 

He finished his tasks with a rapturous smile.

XXXX

Two months had passed by since that awful night in the cabin and Sansa had made tremendous recovery, her bruises had faded almost to nothingness and her lip had healed, the mental recovery would take longer but she was brave and strong. 

It was a nice day, rich blues and wisps of white clouds surrounding a dazzling sun. The sort of day that made Sansa happy. Reporters had been set up outside Lion and Stag Enterprises for a good half hour with their cameras in front of a stage platform and podium, the news stations had been waiting for this press announcement for weeks, some had come all the way from Dorne to find out just what was going on with the most powerful company in Westeros. They all eagerly awaited the CEO Jaime Lannister, he'd not given a public statement since Cersei had been committed. However, instead of the blonde they got the CFO Petyr Baelish, behind him stood a brunette with shoulder length hair that hung in delicate curls. She wore a white blouse with black polka dots and three-quarter sleeves and a black pencil skirt, she looked nervous but that wasn't what the reporters focused on, they focused on the fact she was pregnant. 

A hush descended over the crowd when Baelish walked up to the microphone and shot everyone his best charismatic smile, only Sansa saw that it didn't reach his eyes. There was total silence, as though they were being addressed by the King. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, good afternoon and thank you all for coming.” He began in a deep dominant tone. “As you can see I'm not Jaime Lannister, I'm Petyr Baelish the CFO of Lion and Stag Enterprises. In the last year this company has suffered several personal losses; Joffrey Baratheon the former VP, Tywin Lannister our CEO since the companies creation, Cersei Lannister who we had hoped would take over the role of Vice President, our CLO Pycelle retired, and most recently Roose and Ramsay Bolton the companies CSO and deputy.” Petyr was a natural at speech giving. “We at Lion and Stag are fully aware of the mass rumours going around that this company will breakdown and I am here today, before all you good people, to put those rumours to rest. With the retirement of our CLO, Samwell Tally will be taking over his position. We felt it disrespectful to fill the role of CSO so quickly after the Bolton tragedy, however, with Lion and Stag being such a large company we found ourselves forced to, because of this we have appointed Sandor Clegane.” 

Petyr let everyone take note of those changes before moving on, he could see the confusion still in some of their eyes and it made him internally grin. This was going perfectly. 

“I suppose you're all wondering why I am giving this announcement rather than Jaime Lannister? Earlier today Mister Lannister informed me he was stepping down as CEO of the company -” Every single person present perked up as though they'd discovered alchemy. Questions erupted from the reporters quickly, so many voices each over another. “Please, please.” Slowly quiet returned. “Mister Lannister has decided to spend his time caring for his sister, Cersei, as well as his niece and nephew. Due to this Mister Lannister will be taking over of CEO at Vaith Incorporated in Dorne, Vaith will remain linked to Lion and Stag but Jaime Lannister will no longer be head of the company. Viktorya Cratter, who has been at Vaith Incorporated will be taking my position as Chief Financial Officer -” 

The reporters burst into a line of questioning yet again cutting Petyr off. 

“Are you leaving Lion and Stag as well, Mister Baelish?” A young blonde asked. 

“I will be leaving my position as CFO yes, but not the company. I am to be Lion and Stag's new CEO.” 

 

“How did this come about?” Asked a different reporter, this time a middle aged man with a balding head. 

“Why you?” Questioned another woman.

He was loving every single second of this, Sansa could tell even while trying to appear confident behind him and to the left; she wasn't loving the press announcement. Instinctively a hand went to her round belly. 

“Jaime Lannister had entrusted Lion and Stag to me due to my many years with this company and the fact I have been acting CEO during the Lannister's mourning.” More questions were shouted out but Petyr ignored them all. “I have one final announcement, taking over the role of Vice President will be Alayne Stone. Alayne?” 

He turned to Sansa offering her a reassuring smile that said  _ you can do this, Sweetling. Just like I told you.  _ She took up position at the podium right beside her Master; surely all this stress wasn't good for their baby.  _Master said you're brave, you can do this, you can do this._ The redhead chanted those words in her head almost religiously, she knew exactly what to say, had memorised every word; that didn't make her any less terrified though. There were so many people, so many cameras, she gulped. As soon as Sansa felt Petyr rest his hand on her lower back she surged with courage and strength, nothing could scare her when he was by her side.  _Be brave._

“... Thank you... I'm Alayne Stone, the new Vice President of Lion and Stag Enterprises.” Petyr had told her to look at one of the news vans on the other side of the street and focus on it, and surprisingly it was helping. She took a deep breath. “There have been many changes to the top level executives as of late, many of which caused by horrible tragedies... but... but where confident that... that these changes lead to a successful and long lasting team.” Strangely as she went on speaking grew easier. 

Suddenly a reporter butted in, this one had tanned skin and a clear Dornish accent. 

“Lion and Stag has always prided itself on being a family company, several generations of Lannisters have worked for the company. It's practically the company motto.” 

Petyr hadn't schooled Sansa on what to say to anything like that so opened his mouth to jump in but was amazed to find Sansa didn't need him at all.  _I told you that you were brave my darling girl._

“It will remain a family company.”

That was where her bravery failed, maybe she did need him after all. Smiling Petyr stepped back up to the microphone and helped her, his tone remained kind and good-hearted. 

“Alayne is my fiancée, we're also about to add a second child to our family.”

That set off a chain reaction of reporters yelling out questions, a wave of noise that made little to no sense. It didn't matter though, Petyr wouldn't have answered even if he could have understood the questions, he wouldn't get into all that without having had time to scripted his answers.

“Thank you but that is all for today. Mister Lannister won't be giving a formal statement as to his resignation but will soon hold a press conference in Dorne about his new position as Vaith Incorporated's CEO.” 

Petyr guided Sansa back into the building and up to the fifty-first floor of Lion and Stag then down the long hallways into the boardroom. Inside they found Gwendolyn holding Tristan in her motherly arms, Lady padded over to Sansa the second she came into view. She smiled when they entered. 

“Fiancée?” She teased Petyr. 

This was why he'd needed his assistant on side, she would have been the only person other than Sansa and Tyrion to be aware of any subtle changes in his plots and plans, he had to keep her happy. 

“Gwendolyn -” He began with a gentle trustworthy smile, the one he always wore when he wanted something. “- I know you won't understand this but please -” Oh that wasn't a word he used often. “- there were reasons and it was better to tell you she was my niece.”

“Because Cersei was trying to get rid of you and having a child with an under-age girl would have given her major ammunition?”

“Yes.” He said quickly, his blonde assistant had come up with a rather nice little story to believe. He could work with that. “You're very astute, I'm lucky to have you.”

“Oh Mister Baelish you'll make me blush. You love Alayne and that is all that matters.” She smiled thinking he meant it. “Don't worry I'll keep the press out of the building, I doubt they'll dare try to get Mister Clegane.” She handed Tristan back to his mother. 

“Thank you, Gwendolyn, and I think you may be right.” 

With that she was gone and Sansa watched Petyr's mask slip away to reveal her perfect Master. He turned to face her grinning ear-to-ear, right hand loosening his emerald green tie. Tristan cuddled into her chest and Petyr found it amusing Sansa holding Tristan and pregnant, it made her look so innocent when in reality she was just as calculating and dark as he was; she just lacked the confidence. 

“Is it all yours now, Master?” She asked softly. “All of it?”

“Yes, baby girl.” He strode across the room and took her into his arms, Tristan and bump as well - she'd agonised over telling Petyr she wanted to keep their child, with Tristan he'd been so reserved. In the end Petyr had just come hime one day and tossed her a book of baby names, he wasn't stupid and deep down he'd been hoping she'd decided to keep their baby. “All mine, _ours_ really, you are VP after all.”

“Why?” The word was muttered into his chest.

“The Lannisters took everything from you, now we have taken everything from them; their company and even their lives.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “To the world Sansa Stark is dead, and unfortunately she has to remain that way, but we know the truth. Wolf's blood runs through your veins. I have Tywin's throne and you sit by my side, now and forever. It doesn't matter that you don't know how to be VP, I'll teach you as time goes on. And, with you as my Vice President I know my second in command isn't trying to overthrow me.” His lips found Sansa's own in a soft kiss.

“Can I take this wig off soon?” She asked with a grin once their kiss broke and Petyr just chuckled.

“In a few months when everything has died down you can, if anyone asks we'll say you dyed your hair.” 

“Good.” She'd never voiced it before but she really did hate the auburn wig.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Sansa asked with a puzzled face.

“For giving me everything.” Without her his plan could have taken years.

The redhead shook her head profusely and buried it back into his chest. 

“No, Master. It's the other way around.”

“I wouldn't be so sure. I want to show you something, baby girl.” Said Petyr while removing his dark grey suit jacket and throwing it down on the glass conference table. 

He rolled up the sleeve of his tattooed arm, there fresh and bold in the gap that had gone unfilled for years was a red wolf surrounded by small flashes of purple. At the bottom was a small calligraphy style S, simple and black.

“You filled it!” Sansa beamed.

“I did... with you. You're what I've been missing, and as rom-com as that sounds it's true.”

“I love you, Petyr.”

“I love you too, Sweetling.” 


	40. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the last chapter of Broken Chains. I massive thank you to everyone whose read, commented and left Kudos, I love you all!!! :-) As you've probably noticed I've turned this into a series called Wolves And Mockingbirds so there will be more Petyr/Sansa soon. I've finished with the plot ideas so In a few weeks when I've got a stockpile of chapters written I'll start posting on a weekly basis for you all.  
> Again, a massive thank you to you all and I hope you enjoy.

Sansa straddled the man she loved, hands rested on his charcoal suit clad shoulders while he had his tattooed arm around her waist and the other supporting them on their bed; lips locked in heated kissing. She tasted so perfect to him, her skin was soft and supple. Her belly had grown round now had started to show properly; their child had first kicked while they slept and it had woken Petyr before Sansa. He loved her so much and enjoyed every single second he got to touch her., all that beautiful innocence hiding the dark cunning they shared. 

“I love you, Master.” She told him between kisses.

Sansa only called him Master when they were in bed together now, Petyr wasn't certain when that had started but he found that it just gave the title even more meaning, that and hearing her voice say his real name was better than all the power in the world. 

Suddenly as he made to slowly flip Sansa onto her back the doorbell rang. 

“Ignore it.” Petyr commanded before going to press open-mouthed kisses down her smooth neck. 

The bell continued to chime though, sometimes in a rhythm, sometimes sharp and desperate. Whoever was at the door showed no sign of leaving unfortunately.

“That's it!” Petyr shot up from the bed and grabbed his gun from the night stand. “I don't care who it is but I'm killing them.” 

Petyr didn't usually lose his temper but people coming between him and his beloved certainly got him there. He marched out the room leaving Sansa to straighten her teal dress and follow, thankfully Tristan slept meaning Petyr wouldn't be moving a dead body around in front of their son;  _when did I get so used to death?_ The doorbell sounded as though it were going to soon die a painfully horrible death as they descended the winding staircase, forcefully Petyr pulled open the door only to find Cersei Lannister staring back at him, gun aimed at his head. 

_Shit!_

There was a brief pause where  Petyr wore an expression similar to that of an Animé character in shock, had Cersei not been stood there with a Beretta trained at her soon to be husbands head Sansa would have found it comical. 

Cersei's hair was everywhere – a real mess that went far beyond flyaways – and an ill-fitting dress was all that coated her rather than her the usual Prada. Her nails had chipped and lacked polish, black circles ran rampant around her eyes and her sin had lost its gentle tan despite having spent so long in Dorne.  Petyr raised an eyebrow of confusion at the vagrant before him rather than fear but still he shifted slightly to block Sansa from her; the redhead's hands automatically went to her baby bump guarding their unborn child. 

“Good morning.” He said in that deadpan dominant tone of his. _If she's escaped why wasn't I informed? Why the fuck do I pay these people?_

There was a fire in her eyes making  Cersei really look like a lioness. She continued to twitch as though still drugged or maybe she'd actually lost her mind, Petyr could only hope so. 

“You think you can take everything from me!?” She screamed, gun flapping in his face with a complete lack of skill. “Think you can just-” 

Petyr didn't have time for Cersei's drugged up crap and simply pistol whipped her ending her rant;  she was clearly manic and sleep deprived  so it was easy for him to strike before  Cersei even knew he had moved, all she knew was that she'd crashed to the gravel floor; head throbbing  and gun knocked away. It had surprised him a little that she remained conscious but didn't think much about it and instead simply axe kicked her into slumber. 

“Sansa, I'm getting too old for this shit.” He sighed.

“Nonsense, and would you please get rid of her before she wakes Tristan or someone sees her?”

Petyr hadn't killed anyone since Ramsay Bolton and that was months ago, their life had started to grow into something that could have been deemed _normal_ but Cersei had brought it all back in seconds. The woman meant nothing to Sansa though, not after everything that had happened; Cersei didn't deserve any care or a simple kindness.  Cersei Lannister wasn't a person, she was a rabid lioness that needed putting down. 

“Of course, Sweetling. Start dinner for me would you please?” He looked up the sky where he found the sun hinting that it would soon go to bed. “I should be back by the time it's finished.” 

Sansa nodded and kissed him before watching him roughly sling Cersei over his shoulder and toss her into the DB5'S trunk. 

XXXX

Cersei awoke cold and in darkness hours later, she was naked and had her hands cuffed behind her back. Looking around the darkness she found herself sat in the middle of a glade; this wasn't good. Her left ankle strung and throbbed, when sheloked down she saw how swollen it had becom; clearly broken preventing her from running.

“I was wondering when you'd wake up.” Petyr appeared from the shadows and crouched down before her. “I started to worry I'd hit you a little too hard.” 

“Fuck you, Baelish!” She screeched. 

“Always so feisty.” He grinned as though it were all a joke, a game; knowing Petyr it probably was. “What was your ill thought out plan, huh Cersei?” His gun hung loosely between his legs where he'd crouched. “Was it to yell insults and then shoot me? To kill Sansa and my children then force Jaime to retake Lion and Stag until you figured out how to take over yourself?” Actually that was exactly her plan. “I bet it was, Cersei. You see, you're smart, very smart, but you act before you've figured out all the possibilities, you're trigger happy. That is why none of your little plots ever turn out like you intended while mine always do.” 

“You and that whore killed Joffrey! You did all this!” 

He grinned again, devilish green-grey eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

“I wondered when you'd figure that out. As I said you're a smart one, terrible on execution but smart.”

“You won't kill me! People know I'm here!” That actually made Petyr laugh. 

“Don't lie to me, it insults my intelligence. No one knows you're here because no one would have freely let you leave the hospital and come here with a gun – by the way a Beretta 92FS is too heavy for you to aim accurately with – and you're too arrogant to have told anyone your great genius plan.” The sarcasm just dripped from his voice. “Cersei, you crave power even more than I do, you wish to rule everything rather than be a CEO, _Queen Cersei_. Lannisters make plans in search of revenge for fallen family, I however, will kill you before you even get close to hurting mine, that's what separates you and I. Lannisters seek revenge for what they've lost instead of protecting what they already have. I'll never let you threaten my power or Sansa and my children but I'll let you be Queen. You can be Queen of all this.” Petyr spread his arms wide gesturing to the dell that surrounded them. "I own this land – well, via several proxies and even more assumed names – but I'm gifting it all to you, congratulations.” If sarcasm and smugness were blades Petyr would have flayed Cersei by now. “The first body I disposed of is here, decomposing. Buried deep, deep down though what with the wolves. This place is called Dwellers Hollow, macabre and just screaming death, isn't it? All the winding trees and constant fog.” Only then did she realise just how dark and supernatural the place was, before it had just been a dark glade but now she saw the sharp rocks stacked up with caves hidden away, the mist and eerie trees; Cersei wouldn't be afraid though. “I like it here, it's almost mythical as though dragons will suddenly fly overhead. You want to be Queen, well you can be Queen of this and remain forever, eternally. Scatter you so you can see all the land at once.”

“Scatter?” She questioned.

“Oh, does that finally spark some fear? You remember the wolves I mentioned? They'll rip you apart until all that remains is nibbled marrow remains. I think wolves are fitting, you took everything from Sansa and now the wolves will do the same to you; wolves are my girl personified. You want to know the best bit?” Petyr leaned in close. “Not even Jaime will care that you're gone, not for long anyway. Tommen and Mrycella might even be relieved.”

“Bastard! You won't get away with this! You won't!” Cersei screamed uncontrollably.

Petyr's eyes squinted with genuine puzzlement and his head tilted to one side. 

“Why wouldn't I? I've been successfully disposing of bodies for two and a half decades, do you really think you're any different to any of them? No, you're not special, never have been and certainly never will be.” Petyr rose to his full height and checked he had one in the chamber. “Goodbye Cersei, I'd say I'm sorry but I'm really not. Who knows, maybe you'll see Joffrey in hell”

Everything in Cersei told her to launch to her feet and run but her body refused to cooperate thanks to the pain in her ankle, along with the mass of drugs still in her system – she'd pretty much slept all the way though her trip from Dorne – and maybe her physical form had given up too, her brain just hadn't gotten the memo. It didn't really matter,  Petyr didn't care and Cersei didn't have long enough to figure it out, With eyes locked Petyr fired. Cersei Lannister was no more.  Petyr stood there silently for a time  before he sighed and slipped his Colt Gold Cup into its holster 

“Shame there aren't actually any wolves this far south.” Yet another sigh. “Well, let's tip you into the grave so I can go home and eat with Sansa. Didn't dig six feet for nothing.”

In the end Cersei did get a kingdom to rule over, however, it was two foot wide and six foot deep.  


XXXX

Just over five months had gone by since Petyr had become CEO of Lion and Stag, six days over to be exact – not that Petyr had been counting how many days over due Sansa was. However, in the early hours of that morning she woke him by slapping him in his sleeping face, the bed was been wet and Lady had gone into full guard mode. It took him a few seconds to realise she was in labour, he'd not been expecting the child to be born then but Baelishs were nothing if not unpredictable. He dressed in a heartbeat and carried her down to the car before going back for Tristan. Lady tried her best to follow – going so far as to growl at Petyr – but unfortunately for her there were no dogs allowed on a maternity ward. By the time they returned Lady probably would have destroyed the front door with scratches. 

Sansa hadn't registered much of what was happening as Petyr drove towards the hospital, just the timetable bursts of agony that thundered through her body; there was one thing she notice though and that was that Petyr looked more afraid than she did. He occasionally muttered something, probably comforts and words of reassurance but Sansa didn't know for sure. Her contractions were the worst pain she'd ever felt and that was saying something for her. Fear, panic and so many other emotions clouded her mind but the second Petyr gripped her hand she knew everything would be alright. 

The next eight hours had been utter agony for Sansa despite the pain relief given to her by nurses, she'd almost broken Petyr's hand by gripping onto it so tightly but he didn't complain. He'd refused to leave her either and a nurse had been kind enough to take Tristan to the daycare once it had opened, Petyr hadn't liked the idea of a group of strangers near his son – yes, he'd finally grown accustom to that word – but Sansa needed him there, she was his priority; her and their child. 

Sansa knew it wasn't Petyr's fault she was in such pain – he had left the choice to have their child completely up to her, though there was no denying he'd been pleased when she said they were keeping it – but that didn't stop her wanting to yell at him.  _Can't blame Master for the baby._

The baby, had been what they'd been calling their child as for the duration of her pregnancy, Sansa hadn't wanted to know the baby's gender and Petyr had allowed it despite Sansa being well aware he wanted to know. He'd already chosen Ezra for a boy even though Sansa liked Robb, after her brother. Olyvar had kept saying his name was great for a kid but both parents had ignored him. 

Her mind faded out again when the doctor told her to push and that was exactly what Sansa did, she blocked out all the pain she felt, all the fear, and focused on Petyr right beside her, on the love she already felt for her child. 

“It's a girl!” The doctor called out.

They'd not chosen any girl name, couldn't ever agree, and from all the kickboxer style kicking they'd assumed they were having another boy. A little brother for Tristan. Sansa collapsed against the bed sweating and panting for air, wet bits of fire-red hair sticking to her forehead while nurses cleaned off the baby, their daughter;  _that's going to take some getting used to_ she thought. 

When their daughter was clean, wrapped in a little white blanket and the doctor had finished with Sansa the nurse tried to hand the baby over but Sansa shook her head and nodded to Petyr indicating him first. She was exhausted and just wanted sleep but at the same time she was wired and wanted to see her daughter. That tiny little life being handed to Petyr was part of them both, wisps of red hair and no doubt stormy green-grey eyes, her nose and his lips. 

“I'll have one of our orderlies go and get your son.” Said the greying nurse before leaving them alone.

Petyr was dead silent while Sansa continued to pant, only when she realised just how silent he was did she manage to open her eyes and look at him. At first she thought something was wrong but then it dawned on her sleepy mind. 

“Are you... crying?” His eyes were locked on their daughter and tears did indeed slowly drip from his eyes. “Petyr?” 

“She's perfect.” He whispered without looking up.

Sansa wasn't stupid she knew he'd finally realised what she'd known all along, there was something more important than power.  _Cat was right_ he thought. There was a soft smile on his lips, on e that really did meet his eyes. Normally Petyr hid his emotions deep inside where no one could use them against him, but seeing his daughter he'd not only showed his cards but dropped the whole deck. 

“... I think I know what we should name her.” Sansa shuffled closer awkwardly, eager to hear the name he'd chosen. “Do you remember when I came home to find you drawing for the first time?” Sansa nodded, he didn't see it though Petyr was too busy staring at their child. “That was the first time you felt free and safe enough to do something _you_ wanted, something that made you happy. Do you remember what you were drawing?” 

“Yes.” Sansa's smile grew as she peered at her daughter. “I think it suits her.”

Petyr pressed a kiss to their daughter's little forehead and Sansa felt her heart soar. 

 

 

“Hello, Poppy.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two will be  
> The Disconcerting Case Of Dwellers Hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment I love reading them.


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